Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: At The Gates. Night Comes, Blood Black.

Clouds, black of deep nights
Dim my sight, block my eyes
From the truth, from the flesh

Black in torment steeped
A force worse than Hell unleashed
Let us pray for the final twilight

Crawling up from the swamps of corrupted flesh
slowly stinking
suffocate me

The night screams out the darkness
The pain of dying worlds

Crush

Sunlight seems a blood smear
Niight comes, blood-black
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh
Religion rots your mind, "God" will free you of your soul

Clouds, black of deep nights
Dim my sight, block my eyes
From the truth, from my own flesh

My thoughts come crushing against the walls of the hard
blank
Steel walls of your faith
Don't question the light, black of a thousand lies
It's everything

Black, in torment steeped
A force worse than Hell unleashed
Let us pray for the final twilight

Sunlight seems a blood smear
Niight comes, blood-black
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh
Religion rots your mind, "God" will free you of your soul