Scáth Na Déithe - This Unrecognized Disease

Faceless, Desolate, This Isolation It Tears Mind, Body And Soul These Cruel Empty Days Seem Unending, Uncertain And Where Cruel Words Are Whispered There Is No Escaping The Flame The Mind Is Blinded By Disease Stricken, The Search For Clarity Failing To Recognize The Peril Where Dormant Anxiety Gathers Pledge Nothing But Flesh And Trust Only In Death The Silence, The Waiting That Familiar Presence Resentment Resentment Towards The Self Pacing, Unnerving, The Steps By The Door What Fresh Torture Do They Beckon To Drink Poison Is To Them The Only Cure Not Until Your Demise Will This Torment Cease Not Until Your Spirit Is Driven From You This Unrecognized Disease, Dormant Superstition, Living Decay Alone To Wander In Your Mind Free From This World, Free From A Mothers Curse Free To Gaze In Complete Apathy At The Limbs That Writhe Beneath You As They Twist And Blacken The Very Soil Resonated The Land Screamed Out But You Were Mute