The stars grow dim
 In their places
 And the moon turns pale
 Before me
 Veils are blown
 Across its flame
 Demons approach the circumference
 Of my sanctuary

 A wind has risen
 The dark water stirs

 And they like the dark places best
 For their god is a lying lord
 Strange lines appear carved on my door
 The light from the window
 Grows increasingly dim

 At death's door
 You will find your redemption
 And there will
 Always remain a black earth

 Helvete