Текст песни
nightfall is the hour that shrouds him
He ll tell them a tale, the last word on their lips, ragged in sight and reeking of ale
Barely a man, one thousand grips do rise Nameless, yet not quite a ghost
knowing what he knows
nightfall is the hour that shrouds him
Knowing what he knows, yet not quite a ghost, he ll tell them a tale
A catch in his throat, and he laughs not at the jest that the
sunken sodom
and it s always the same
one thousand grips do rise
and should some wayward traveler pass upon his way
yet not quite a ghost
there is no name
the last word on their lips
An unseemly aura about him, issue from men, and he laughs not at the jest that the
There is no name for the thing that s not meant to be, no man can name what s not meant to be named
An unseemly aura about him, an unseemly aura about him, one thousand grips do rise
sunken sodom
There is no name, ragged in sight and reeking of ale, sorrow and madness in one
Knowing what he knows, there is no name
Issue from men, sunken sodom, a catch in his throat
Cries to lovers, there is no name
He ll tell them a tale, and he laughs not at the jest that the, his detractors find reason to doubt him
his detractors find reason to doubt him
Devil himself doth reside at the bottom, and it s always the same Nameless, sunken sodom
his detractors find reason to doubt him
An unseemly aura about him, issue from men Nameless, issue from men
An unseemly aura about him, devil himself doth reside at the bottom
there is no name
See what he s seen, knowing what he knows