Marduk - 1651 - Текст песни

Then At Will By The Pale Death With His Cold Hand
Who With Time Will Stroke Your Breasts At Last;
The Precious Coral Of Your Lips Long Past
Your Shoulders' Snow Now Warm Turned Cold To Sand

Your Eyes' Sunset Lightning The Skills Of Your Hand
To Him Before Whom All Things Fail Will Fall

That Hair That Rivale Bow Its Bleam Will Pall
With Days And Years As Any Common Band

Your Well-Formed Foot Your So Enchanting Ways
Of Not To Dust To Nothing Time Decays
Then None Will Bow Down For Your Beauty's Sake

This And More Than This Will Come To Be;
Not Even Your Bones The End Of Time Will See
Since Time Chose Of Nothing It To Make