In Sorte Diaboli,
In choosing of the Devil...

Under the cold, moonlit sky,
Lay the gardens, grown from blood...

As I sit in the disaster of my life,
I lament upon my past...

You are my guardian angel
Forever watching over me...

Sitting under a bewildered sky,
Lay a tree of lost tragedies...

[Intro]
Our sins are our desires...

When the curse of depression is upon us,
We seek ways to ease the pain...

You are my quintessence of virtuousness,
For my less than unblemished heart...

Lamenting in depression,
Thinking just of you...

In a perfect world,
Nobody should have to experience darkness...

As I lay in lamentation,
I wish forever I could be yours...

Within these dying days of late,
Depression be eth thy norm...