Текст песни Cult Of Erinyes - A Thousand Torments

04. A Thousand Torments

Spawn of hatred, spawn of sorrow
Repellent even to the gods
Born from a few drops of blood
Their glance must not be met

Their footsteps echo voices untold
Bewitching guides of the other side
Cold councilors fed by disarray

They take him to the kingdom of nothingness
He must tread on the decaying lands
In his ears, in his mind, the hoarse whisper
Of his executioners

Their footsteps echo voices untold
Bewitching guides of the other side
Cold councilors fed by disarray

Gazing one last time into the abyss
He carries out their last commandment
Lowering his lifeless eyes
To the putrid, infested, eternal soil