2018.09.11.
The Flowers of Night
I picked the flowers of nightPicked them in the field of the damned
Picked them all nights through
Poison was in those sorrowful flowers
I drank the liquor of passion
Drank that deadly liquor
Drank it in the hours of pleasure
I sold my soul in return
And now, on the quaking mountain
A black horse is hoofing on the ground
Sable is the mane on his withers
The devil himself can't humble him.
He will gallop across the meadow
He will race through the field of the damned
Fire is in the blazing eyes
Fire is in the red-hot chest
Maybe, I'll be alone in the night
When he dashes past me
Maybe, solely the flowers of night
Will come out in the dew of blood. (X2)