Celtic Frost
Sorrows Of The Moon
[Verse 1]
This evening the moon dreams more lazily
As some fair woman, lost in cushions deep
With gentle hand caresses listlessly
The contour of her breasts before she sleeps

[Verse 2]
On velvet backs of avalanches soft
She often lies enraptured as she dies
And gazes on white visions aloft
Which like a blossoming to heaven rise

[Verse 3]
When sometimes on this globe, in indolence
She lets a secret tear drop down, by chance
A poet, set against oblivion

[Verse 4]
Takes in his hand this pale and furtive tear
This opal drop where rainbow hues appear
And hides it in his breast far from the sun