True silent dying

the falling all of nature and grim burning skies of dark
and then rising of the darkness in my kingdom from the night
misanthropic holy sadness makes the unholy tears of dreams
makes the mountains as the stone and the forests as a tree

true ruinous stroms are come in the landscapes of the dark
painful dying of the owls I hear it out from the dark
the sky is burning gray and the stars are darken away
disintegrate moon on sky has the last shining but gray

the tired tearing voices, many cages lost the keys
prisoners in the prisons, and the prisons are their creeds
oh, the morbid castels and cathedrals are the elder ruins like selves
I feel here is so cold, colder than the colds of flames

wrathful storms desolates trees from the forests to the deeps
the deeper and the deeper than the deeps of abyssic griefs
the graveyard's stones of tombs are flying on the air
empty graves, even the coffins, is this pure ? is this the end ?

all the funerals are here, here is no tears from a heart
here is nature, here is forest, here is flames, and here is dark
true reasons of the living on this earth are where to find ?
no one needs the world after death and the living in this side

who is god ? who is satan ? what is reason of the life ?
where is hell ? where is heaven ? where is where the soul can fly ?
who is Ihs ? who is phrophet ? who can change the brain of mine ?
what is religion ? what is life ? what is promise ? what is die ?

in this coldest darkest corner of the true dark imperials
I'm sitting on my black robe and I'm tearing with the pride
ah, I see a funeral, the funeral of the brains
but no one feels this dying, true silent dying of my brain