Long Tarries Destiny, But Comes To Those

In Every Tyrant's Heart There Springs In The End This Poison, That He Cannot Trust A Friend.

In Visions Of The Night, Like Dropping Rain, Descend The Many Memories Of Pain.

The Laws Of A State Change With The Changing Times.

There Is No Pain So Great As The Memory Of Joy In Present Grief.

When The Black And Mortal Blood Of Man Has Fallen To The Ground ... Who Then Can Sing Spells To Call It Back Again?