Endless Cemetery — Cryptopsy

Beneath a shawl of midnight Silence, a howling Blackness where all is remade in necromorphosis, asleep in human remains

Worn from the stones, elegiac word recounting hopes and forgotten lives, for beneath them lies the Dust of humans, the Dust of dreams, the Dust...

A coach drawn by the blackest steeds, as befits those who've passed from Life, will bring you to where swarm the specters of Man's best-loved Funerals

The Laws of Flesh are here repealed: Vigor Mortis is now the Way, so count the black beads of your Sorrow while you stammer your frightened prayers

Readjust your vision, see the warp in the Shadows... there's Something wrong with the Dark: Something that thrives on Wretchedness and Sorrow and makes the darkness crawl

Rain-swelled clouds blot out the sun, damned nor'easter chilling the Dark

Branches, sticks, thistles, thorns, feathers, fur, mud and bones... Dying ground

A Lifeless Thing of earthen heath, seeing soil from beneath, knows the Need to Summon flesh to its maw

Cold blue lips frame (a) yard-wide grin that Calls to flesh, to let it in, and thus indulge its Yearning come the unDawn

Roam the endless Cemetary of what once was, (where) the Allfeeling is never truly Gone