Interpret:

Agalloch

Album:

Pale Folklore

Kiss me coldly and drain this life from my lips 
Let the cold blood flow on it's own... 
Kiss me coldly and fall away from the soul 
Long forgotten... 


From which of this oak shall I hang myself? 
These ebon halls are always dark... 
From which frostbitten bough shall I die? 


As dark as the winter, as black as her ghastly veil 
As cold as her whisper and chilling gown 


No corridors of life and beauty 
These enchanted halls are stained with the blood of night 
Ebon halls gleam as ghosts of a fire dance wickedly across a pantheon of marble 


These weary eyes shall open no more, frozen tightly by the cold embrace of death 
A charnel house of memories torn and burning melancholy shall embrace me now 


Hear this call... 
Beyond endless halls and far across the vast forest, just across the iron gates 
Whispers... 


As dark as the winter, as black as her grim mask of death 
As cold as her sorrow, her ivory tears 


No corridors of life and beauty 
No bloodred sky, no colors left in this world 


It was the light's end