They burn a shivering candle in the dead of night
It's not for their dim vision, nor 'bout their peace of mind
Whispering prayers, hoping for salvation that won't come
All this for a fiend, I am the passing one

Hunt under the night skies!

Morning dew, the mark of slumber
Ends their nightly gloom
Mist filled terror, darkness, horrors
Fright, as I consume

Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them.

Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.

How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.
No man knows till he has suffered from the night
Now sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning
Can be

I spare no mortal's torment since I returned from afterlife
I rip the flesh of elders, their daughters, and their wives

Blood sun
Dark tomb
Dead fiend
Night soon!

Now they pray more often, burning candles every night
To vanquish their fear and save some peace of mind
Ever whispering prayers, hoping for salvation from the sun
The ghastly moon appears, in darkness we are one!

… in darkness we are one