The Underworld Obscura
The mist of morning's dawn Risen through by endless rain The witches hung from the gallows The sign of seasons pain Black empty forests Teeming with evil The evil of winter Is the work of the arcane Many months lost in shiver by the hex of blaspheme The noose is tied To the curse of hell! See the black infant's eyes Depths of hatred Know no bounds It has kindled our suffering Extinguish the flame Wisdom of men cloaked in black To blame the harlots in solitude Douse their fires With the sign of true god Round them up and tie the ropes Ignore the children's screams For they too will hang from the gallows of our faith Bear no mind to the lifting frost For we bear the sign of god Speak the words you've been taught and tear their souls apart Tear their souls apart! The evil of winter Is the work of the arcane The witches hung from the gallows The sign of seasons pain
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Aug 14, 2026
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