Pace of misery ghoulishly I stumble.
Be I creep of a color humble,
Nevermore you`ll see the forests breathe,
Oh of black sin your soul I`ll make it leek,
Your oaths from now on I`ll make you keep,
Hence the shadow of your grave be dark and deep.

Gars - : vī
Galvu ārda: My Shameful - ...Of Dust