The Angel of Death came to me,
Digging my grave in my heart.
Motionless standing with a hood on his head,
And the long, dark list in his hand.

The figure surrounded by a sea of white mist,
Holding the long, dark list in his hand.
And the letters are glowing in black and in red,
As the blood is dripping on the cold, arid land.

He's handing a rose, as black as himself,
I glance and I don't dare to take.
He throws it inside the grave in my heart,
And my soul is falling under his shade.

The Angel of Death slowly approaching me,
I can feel his cold, icy breath on my neck.
His lips are caressing my warm, naked breast,
From his touch I fall on my knees and I melt.

I lie in his bed, my grave as it is,
Drowning in my hot flaming blood.
I'm falling asleep till my flesh will be rotten,
Please forget me -
The Angel of Death is my God.