The doors of those who live with this curse are painted black />They will return...
The children of death, angels
They will fall...
One thousand three hundred and forty-one
France is rotten
Punishment from a god who with
Cruelty will clean their wounds
Bramble dogs, cleaning the
Streets licking the blood of
Dead
Anguish and death couple of
Dance in this feast of crows
Times of the black plague
The grim reaper is thirsty
Desperation accompanies the
Pain and faith confront each other
With what morbid gluttony
Death swallows their souls
I speak of a sick beast
That never finds calm
A choir of sick children
Sings the ode of crying
The song of hell
br/>The prayer of the holy field
The cold sound of the cart
Laden with dead bodies
They will end up in the earth
Sown...
In the garden of the hell
The priest lost faith!
The only god is the black plague
There is no longer anyone to fear
Only the god of the black death

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS