Schuld Uns'res Knoch'rigen Faltpferd
Bethlehem
Guilt of Our Bony Fold Horse
Death turns us all into flies
Gives us wings
Where once suffocated graves
Bore icy innocence
Gentle as thorns of a withered
Obsession
Paired with hawk claws
We denounce the king
And where once was is now gray
At times our shoulders no longer obey to bear the burden
Which cut off at the foot
And shorn at the head
Caressing darkness
Of a cunning free play
Suffice
An overly friendly guest
Brought unannounced into ghastly pallor
Seems as a second (repeating)
When deathly pale
Death appears exciting
And demands
Our consecrated incest
Death turns us all into flies
Gives us wings
Where once suffocated graves bore icy innocence
Death
Death
Death
