Sleep and Death, the dark eagles Roaring for nights on end around our heads. The countenance of our white tombs Stares at us The countenance of our white tombs All the time Sleep and Death, the dark eagles Roaring for nights on end around our heads. While we are walking under dark arcades And the shadows of dead angels play beside. Silently the winds decay On the lonesome hill The bleak walls Of the autumnal grove The countenance of our white tombs Stares at us The countenance of our white tombs All the time Sleep and Death, the dark eagles Roaring for nights on end around our heads. While we are walking under dark arcades And the shadows of dead angels play beside.