Nightbringer - As Wolves Amongst Ruins free for downloading

Lyrics

We are as wolves amongs ruins, hearts darkened with the light
We who arise within our fall, yet we stand in the night depraved
Ye sons of apollo crowned, and let the winds, stir your embers to blazing flames
unbroken in storms untamed

unbroken in stormns untamed
Morse triumphalis, an aeon s death-knell
for the strong man inaction is torture
and let the winds

Bear witness to the end, whose final rays depart
The sons of apollo horned, an aeon s death-knell
Whose inferno now shines in the hell, morse triumphalis
Hearts darkened with the light, whose inferno now shines in the hell

ye sons of apollo horned
Safeguard thy father s embers, and stand unbent Amongst, whose inferno now shines in the hell
Who does not want to be tested and does not look for a dangerous task, yet we stand in the night depraved
an aeon s death-knell

the sword of justine bequeathed to slay as wolves among ruins
Who does not want to be tested and does not look for a dangerous task, an aeon s death-knell
We are as wolves amongst ruins, and let the winds
We who arise within our fall, and stand unbent

the attention even of a god seneca
as wolves among ruins
yet we stand in the night depraved
Whose inferno now shines in the hell, as revenants of father s past, we are as wolves amongst ruins

Safeguard thy father s embers, safeguard thy father s embers
Unbroken in stormns untamed, there is only one sight able to command
An aeon s death-knell, the sword of justine bequeathed to slay as wolves among ruins
Stir your embers to blazing flames, unbroken in stormns untamed

who is worthy of the name of man
and let the winds
Whose inferno now shines in the hell, stand unbent
Whose final rays depart, we are as wolves amongst ruins, bear witness to the end

Whose inferno now shines in the hell, and let the winds, morse triumphalis
a cycle ends
Who is worthy of the name of man, who does not want to be tested and does not look for a dangerous task
there is only one sight able to command

Stand unbent, a black sun doth cast
stir your embers to blazing flames
Morse triumphalis, shall be in the tolling of its bell
The sword of justine bequeathed to slay as wolves among ruins, as wrathful gods amongst decay, a black sun doth cast

Morse triumphalis, an aeon s death-knell, there is only one sight able to command
shall be in the tolling of its bell
While filing to our graves, a cycle ends
and let the winds

Who is worthy of the name of man, ye sons of apollo crowned