Abysmal Growls of Despair
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I see death like these misty expanses, where the icy air ignites the fog of dawn.
Where the large straight fir trees, stretched towards the sky, seem like whispers.
Where the vague light emerging in the distance, penetrates to the ground, then goes out.
Where the rocks, like the colossi of times gone by, would be the guardians of an ancestral garden.
- Album:
- Worst Putrid Tongue
- Dark Days