Asenna Steam
kirjaudu sisään
|
kieli
简体中文 (yksinkertaistettu kiina)
繁體中文 (perinteinen kiina)
日本語 (japani)
한국어 (korea)
ไทย (thai)
български (bulgaria)
Čeština (tšekki)
Dansk (tanska)
Deutsch (saksa)
English (englanti)
Español – España (espanja – Espanja)
Español – Latinoamérica (espanja – Lat. Am.)
Ελληνικά (kreikka)
Français (ranska)
Italiano (italia)
Bahasa Indonesia (indonesia)
Magyar (unkari)
Nederlands (hollanti)
Norsk (norja)
Polski (puola)
Português (portugali – Portugali)
Português – Brasil (portugali – Brasilia)
Română (romania)
Русский (venäjä)
Svenska (ruotsi)
Türkçe (turkki)
Tiếng Việt (vietnam)
Українська (ukraina)
Ilmoita käännösongelmasta
Is it a pilgrim from the asylum
Carried aloft
By a friend to our lady of sin
Where to begin
Listen well, boy
There are two bells to ring
The parish above
The blighted bog found deep below
And their guardians
Still thirst for your cursed blood
Drop your sign
For the brothers in need to find
Like a moth
Flittering towards a flame
Vereor nox
If only I could be so grossly incandescent
I will march through the dark
Like the hero before me
I have died many times
I'm replete with humanity
If only I could be so grossly incandescent
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀
⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
꧁༺ 𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓧-𝓜𝓪𝓼 ༻꧂