Weltanschauung

The strength grown up upon the remains of the wise thoughts The greater faith from the most ancient depths Drenched in blood by the fault of insane Just sleeping it was and reaching for its tops The call of the macrocosm, a chilling chant When the flask remains the only excuse to stay here Death hasn't been studied yet and the life still hasn't died in pain With the knife, with the runes to cut your veins An empty void a temple of endless sleep Infinity and darkness an empty void. (Nokturnal Mortum : Weltanschauung)