Check TSYGUN news and more:

https://www.facebook.com/tsygun/

https://tsygun.bandcamp.com/

https://vk.com/tsygunhorsecore

It waits idly at the bottom,

The blind shapeless monster.

The bubbles in the water —

The swamp thing is singing its song.

The night envelops the moor,

The moss grows on the hopes.

But, as you stare at the very bottom,

You’ll see the light of the foul moors.

The false light is beckoning,

The monster will grab you by the leg.

No way of breathing in the deep,

The heart is ice bound.

The night envelops the moor,

The moss grows on the hopes.

But, as you stare at the very bottom,

You’ll see the light of the foul moors.

The swamp thing will slowly, ruthlessly

Drag its prey down to its den.

The mud, the dirt and the reeds

Will be your burial tomb.

Covered in slugs all over its scales,

Burps dirt and farts mud.

No one can ever escape from the grasp

Of the moors’ tenacious sovereign.

No escape!