A mouthful of napalm, an eyeful of black, the age of unlight's drawing near 

a tongueful of wormwords, an earful of death, the season of the scythe is here 

a handful of nothing, a heartful of holes, these are the rhymes no one should hear 


here we are, declaring darkness with heart and hand 

here we die, among the words of ashes and ends 


a songful of sickness, a verseful of pain, the time of necrofever's near 

a chordful of silence, a lineful of void, these are the tunes no one should hear 


here we are, declaring darkness with heart and hand 

here we die, among the words of ashes and ends 


here we die again... 


dead for a while, we ride the tombs of time 

give death a chance, give me some doom, alright!