Ihsahn
Catharsis
To drain the blood from this vast
This black, stinking oil
And scorch the prints all there (...)
And deeds go (...)
To pull the dead from the jaws
All this treacherous (...)
As the (...)
And the mouth to the (...)
To cut off every link
That ever touch the soul
All this burn
And burning (...)
That (...) my suffer
To drink the blood
(...)
(...)
(...)
To cut off every link
That ever touch the soul
All this burn
And burning (...)
That (...) my suffer
This crippled memory...
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