Art of Death act III: The Requiem of the Funeral Eve - Immortal Souls

Beautiful evening turns to night.

Clouds they gather to the darkening sky.

Storm is rising, but still it’s calm.

As I’ve been writing this requiem.

I — am powerless, wallow in this feeling;

I — am breathless, hear the sound of mourning;

Distant church bells begin to toll.

I rise listen, feel it in my soul.

I’m getting weaker, but I need to write.

I stare these woods, this one last time.

I — am powerless, wallow in this feeling;

I — am breathless, hear the sound of mourning;

I grow weaker by the hour, I cannot sleep.

My heart’s heavy for departure.

In this final moment;

I feel growing weakness, cannot breath.

My heart’s last heavy beating.

As I write this requiem.

I kneel down and lower my head.

Silent chanting fills the air.

It’s time to begin the funeral.

From this edge I bid the last farewell.

I — am powerless, wallow in this feeling;

I — am breathless, hear the sound of mourning;

I grow weaker by the hour, I cannot sleep.

My heart’s heavy for departure.

In this final moment;

I feel growing weakness, cannot breath.

My heart’s last heavy beating.

As I write this requiem.