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...

[Intro]
Our sins are our desires...

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

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

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

Lamenting in depression,
Thinking just of you...

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

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

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