Tekster: Thy Serpent. Death - MCD. Wounds Of Death.

Leave, O leave me to my grief
Here i'll sit and fade away
Till i'm nothing but a spirit
And rid of this form of clay

Death who sets all free
Hath paid my ransom and thro'
the gloom he'll see my shadow
Hear my voice upon the breeze

Life to death is crown or shame
What glorious hands gave me
wounds of death?
My own psychical mind...
My own psychical mind...

....which never gave me peace in
earthly life...