Son Of The Black Ram

Every diseased man weeps with him
They cry for his naked wounds
Ordered to kneel and rejoice
May the celestial faith be undisturbed

Like the seasons sadness revolves
Destiny plays the cruellest games
The harshness of the frozen solstice
Will melt into an infernal drought

Twelve men dressed in red cloaks
Twelve men dressed in black robes
A choir of lustful virgins pray for a thousand joys

Unflourished, sad and cursed
A bouquet of depression lead them into lamentation
Ritual of impurification

Son of the Black Ram appears in the thundering mist