Not dead but dying - Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble Of Shadows (永恒沉睡)

Take my hand

In the old theatre

Of seven hells

A ferry that it's wings

We call

Moon by day

Life a book

Of burden tongue

That hurts our ears

Flowers of the end

Their seed

Shall grow

Your breath

Will coat

The underworld is

Oh so cold

They don't feel the chill

But please

Hold me warm

The aweful night

Has gone

What lay before

We can't remember

Morpheus has drowned

In the lament

Of who's own

Take my hand

In the old theatre

Of seven hells

A ferry that it's wings

We call her

Moon by day

Life a book

Of burden tongue

That hurts our ears

Flowers of the end

Their seed

Shall grow

Your breath shall we

Will coat

The underworld is

Oh so cold

They don't feel the chill

But please

Hold me warm

The aweful night

Has gone

What lay before

We can't remember

Morpheus has drowned

In the lament

Of a group of seven

Take my hand

In the old theatre

Of seven hells

A ferry that it's wings

We call her

Moon by day

Life a book

Of burden tongue

That hurts our ears

Flowers of the end

Their seed

Shall grow

Your breath shall

We will coat

The underworld is

Oh so cold

They don't feel the chill

But please

Hold me warm

The aweful night

Has gone

What lay before

We can't remember

Morpheus has drowned

In the lament

Of the group of seven

Take my hand

In the old theatre

Of seven hells

A ferry that it's wings

We call her

Moon by day