Lo.
Into the darkest night we go.
Wash the blood from thy hands
Thy crimson tears in vanity shed
Fair Prosperpine, dead.
This circle of woe drawn in grief
While the girl of spring time sleeps
Broken not but by mortus release.
Cruel ring, dark ring
Oh nightmares bring.
Into the darkest night we go.
Wash the blood from thy hands
Thy crimson tears in vanity shed
Fair Prosperpine, dead.
This circle of woe drawn in grief
While the girl of spring time sleeps
Broken not but by mortus release.
Cruel ring, dark ring
Oh nightmares bring.
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