Spectres - Tribulation

In the gloom, in the sublime

In the crevice where the death bells chime

In the in between where darkness swirls

The twilight is the crack between the worlds

Night — bewitching, luring

Host of daunting spectacles

At dawn — a dance of death

There’s a wind of disease

Emanating from a distant mist

Beware the dancing ones' breath

Beware the witches kiss

At the sound of strikes 13

As the feet turn backwards

And the air turns to ice Spectres appear

From the cold, from the moon

From the sounds of the Devil’s tune

From the blood that the pious condemn

In the tomb we become

Night — bewitching, luring

Host of daunting spectacles

At dawn — a dance of death

There’s a wind of disease

Emanating from a distant mist

Beware the dancing ones' breath

Beware the witches kiss

At the sound of strikes 13

As the feet turn backwards

And the air turns to ice Spectres appear

Out of womb, out of hell

Out of the worlds of distorted sheels

Out of the smudge from the serpent’s eye

A demon breed, the trail to the north

Trought lady she-fox's cry