Rise upon the weakness,dust with darkness fall
In a world of dark ages,flooding twisted minds,
Humble be thy waltz,that waits for you to call
When the blood creeps and the fear finds...
A dancemaster in a midnight's clock.
Locked inside his gothic rhythm and his lifeless piece of heart...
Tingles the nature's blessing, racked by his deadlock,
Lies beneath his madness which so deeply weaves.
A lost soul was born,from his eternal grief
She found her way to live, in a gothic doll
The night was cold and frozen with leafs..
Haunting his thoughts when the faith is small...
She came toward him,with much respect she bowed,
He took her fragile hand and then the waltz began.
The corpses all around gathered in the crowd
His pangs,his pain disappeared, behind a sensuous gothic waltz...