Feast of death

The night of corpses.
Dry lake of memories.
In thanks for your life everything has been recived.
And emptiness remain.
Gray dust rises over the corpses heads.
Death rests today.
She won't take anyone to the darkness.
This is the night of corpses.
I met you here.
You're cold as I.
And your face is fragile.
Now we change into dust...

Klinga