Скачать или смотреть Paul Roland - Nosferatu

He dines alone in empty rooms with sweet bouquet of
Withered blooms,
his teeth long rotted to the root he sucks the pulp of
bruised fruit.
Gone the bearing and the grace, sad sunken eyes and charnel face,
He'll dye his hair and paint his nails and rouge the cheeks
That ageing pales.

Nosferatu he sleeps the sleep of the undead.

And when he stands before the glass no reflection does he cast,
This vile disease that taints his line burns the fabric
Of his mind.
He writhes accursed in his bed, the wretched sleep of the undead,
The slow parade of faded friends, the long dark sleep that
Never ends.

His great house weeps with rank decay, he walks by night
And sleeps by day.
He'll rail the Reaper, curse him low, he who waits and mocks
Him so.