O Death, dip your withered hands in night

O Death, dip your withered hands in night,
And paint a sky devoid of light.
A starless void, where silence screams,
Where souls drift lost in shattered dreams.

Where shadows roam without a name,
And passion's spark is not the same.
In Abaddon, hymns are sung
By ghosts whose songs go ever unsung.

No love, no warmth, no final dawn,
Just emptiness that lingers on.
A kingdom where forgetfulness is king,
And no more hope shall rise or sing.