Veils Were Blown (rehearsal) - Evocation

The stars grow dim

In their places

And the moon turns pale

Before me

Veils are blown

Across its flame

Demons approach the circumference

Of my sanctuary

A wind has risen

The dark water stirs

And they like the dark places best

For their god is a lying lord

Strange lines appear carved on my door

The light from the window

Grows increasingly dim

At death’s door

You will find your redemption

And there will

Always remain a black earth

Helvete