" kiss the corpse the blessed sigh enter the garden of the night.

Shed a tear suspended in fear - Every soul is starving here "

The silence of the graves is not silent at Both：

Millions of the dead are crying in their graves

But no-one can hear them no-one ever hears

No-one can hear them Except for the dead themselves.

We can't die no we can't die

It doesn't even matter if we try.

We fear/hate the living we shun the light

Our beloved tombs keep us sheltered inside.

Sleep sleep is the brother of death

So lie down beside this skeleton in the coldness of the grave

Let the embrace of his dead arms keep you all save and sound.

Buried in slumber silently Forever beneath the ground.

Stalk "The night" if that's your wish

With your foolish garlic-chain and crucifix

Yet if you find our graves we won't be there

There are thousands of places left for our despair.

And every night it's the same again：

"The feast of Blood is about to begin "

We are wretched pathetic the flickering souls

But staging our pain is all part of the whole.

And when all lights are fading leaving but a fleeting glow

Then after far too many years it's time for us to go.

"Kiss the corpse - the blessed sigh - walk in the garden of the night.

Shed a tear suspended in fear - Cause every soul is starving here.

Hold the carcass sweetest lie bury the body you chose to deny

Shed a tear suspended in fear - Every soul is starving here."