Black Funeral - Shadows Of Obour

My death-thirst is strong unquenchable death-kissed, mine days in the grave
Cold and rotting
I rise as shadows, unquenchable
In phantom form casting a mournful shadow
Shrieking in the nigh
Unquenchable
Forty days I enter my corpse in the grave
To rise
Drinking and spitting blood
Cruel fangs and claws and all
Life I thirst for
That rhythm of the heart slowing
Into the abyss encircled in darkness
The void is where I breath fire
Blackened whispers call you near
Behold the death-thirst