Sopor Aeternus Not Dead but Dying Lyrics:
Take my hand in the old 'Theatre Of Seven Hells',
a ferry that bowed its wings,
we call Her: 'Moon by Day'.
Life - a book of painful tongue
that hurts our ears.
Flowers of the end, their seed shall grow.
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Your breath shall be my coat,
the underworld is, oh, so cold.
The dead don't feel chill,
but please, hold me warm.
The aweful night has gone; what lay before...
we can't remember.
Even Morpheus has drowned in the lament
of his own weeping shadow...
Lyrics: Not Dead but Dying, Sopor Aeternus [end]