In the light of the moon, on a night so fair This young child it watches, a burden he does bare With scythe in hand, and mask adhered He forces himself, to forget all that is dear
Swinging his weapon, with a merciless force He often asks himself, why do I walk this course? So beautiful and elegant, he form of an angel And yet he is aware, his soul shall go to Hell
Fighting under a holy name, he cuts down all who stand In the high hopes of protecting those, whose lives are in his hand And yet despite his wishes, he knows all too well That he too shall soon succumb, to the contracts of Hell
He is a poor young boy, trapped in his own nightmare Forever to walk the earth and fight, while he wallows in quiet despair So graceful and elegant, yet with every breath Lumaria Euronymous his name, steeps closer and closer to Death...