How much more righteous I would be Coming on black-tipped wings With eyes that shine with mourning With sword red-tipped with wrath How...

The King in Red Even in Arcadia Amidst such hallowed meadows Such guarded pastures Such simple days These mournful measures Morbid tunes...

Trending towards a kind of darkness Towards a sickness cyclical Advertised with slickness cynical A vision miserable before our eyes A...