Holding The Seal

Between the sphere of throne choirs and sphere of angel choirs

In clouds of reverie and windy, mad existence

From all of pains and suffers made from fear in abyss of damned

The magic Seal of Formeus, weaved in merciless time

He keeps it with him

Gives a power and sentences

Guards his own madness

Yields a wild blisses

The great marquess of hell, he learns a fine arts

He can render man for being a master of rhetoric

The legions of ghosts from dark abysses

Are still ready for his orders

Are making him adored by his enemies

Formeus, gazed in his Seal