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Empyrium - Mourners Meagre trees in the shrouds , as old as the stones.... Mourners of abandonåd love , fornever their woes shall grow silent.

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    Empyrium - Mourners

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    Empyrium - Mourners



    Meagre trees in the shrouds,
    as old as the stones....
    Mourners of abandonåd love,
    fornever their woes shall grow silent.

    O how many times may the moon has shone -
    reflected in these black lakes?
    Should it be that we can hear,
    the woes of those who ceased their lifes?

    O so old they are...
    they bare the neverending grief...
    Age-old miserability
    Ancient bitter beauty

    Lost is the hope of those,
    who walk the moors with pain in heart.
    ..and all joy it sinks,
    burried deep, forever presumed dead.

    O so old they are...
    they bare the neverending grief...
    Age - old miserability,
    a bitter beauty thrilling me

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