Sol is flaring from her tongue,
With hair the color of the sun.
Falling from the cliffs, hung high with snow,
Into the waters deep and far below.
The Venus risen up radiates in the east.
And how they delight to make the beast.
Intertwined yet sewn, Solace melds in the skin
Oh how Satan loves his sin.
Flickers
Flickers
Constance
L'oss Hall
The World That is Lost
Ascension of Indigtaion
The Dead do Not Revolt
The Trepan Of The Clock
A Solitary Order
Kronostory
Feraland
Solipsistica Nihilisti
Killkorps
Correcting the Human Model
The Indictment Of Birth
Patterns Of Force
Nebuchadnezzar Division
Kalki's Army
Satan and the Sun
Constance