2) Le Don Ténébreux: Chroniques d'une lune sanglante

In his sky, Gog was still laughing.

Can the dark moon still helping,

Child, prisoner of cruel arms,

After running away after the warm?

A blood tear on his burned wings:

That's not the life he was waiting.

He's dying under a black cross.

Can you ever think he was lost?

The real time is again running,

Forgetting the death of Nothing

The last december in burning.

That's a story I'm not involved

But he is man I'm still waiting

Buying with prayers, o my love.