| Song | Artifacts Of The Black Rain |
| Artist | In Flames |
| Album | Used & Abused In Live We Trust |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Gelotte, Stromblad | |
| Staring there, leaning to the city moon | |
| Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms | |
| The black clad voyeur in his black clad masque | |
| In the serpentine sun of tragedy basked | |
| Stood there cursing at the soul dead mass | |
| With their fabled illusions, vain dreams that passed | |
| Splinters of a life rushing by in the whirl | |
| A lone silent warrior in a fantasy world | |
| He cried for night but night could not come | |
| So swept in the shroud of misanthrope, he went away | |
| And fed the empty galleries | |
| With the artifacts of the black rain | |
| Sunken into the shadows with a dry sardonic smile | |
| He made the footprints a part of his heart | |
| To rouse a sacred confrontation | |
| Stood at the carving on the monument telling lies | |
| Digging of the earth, making friends with the soil | |
| As the all mother rises and bares her bleeding thighs | |
| He disappears into her cold, icy womb |
| zuo ci : Gelotte, Stromblad | |
| Staring there, leaning to the city moon | |
| Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms | |
| The black clad voyeur in his black clad masque | |
| In the serpentine sun of tragedy basked | |
| Stood there cursing at the soul dead mass | |
| With their fabled illusions, vain dreams that passed | |
| Splinters of a life rushing by in the whirl | |
| A lone silent warrior in a fantasy world | |
| He cried for night but night could not come | |
| So swept in the shroud of misanthrope, he went away | |
| And fed the empty galleries | |
| With the artifacts of the black rain | |
| Sunken into the shadows with a dry sardonic smile | |
| He made the footprints a part of his heart | |
| To rouse a sacred confrontation | |
| Stood at the carving on the monument telling lies | |
| Digging of the earth, making friends with the soil | |
| As the all mother rises and bares her bleeding thighs | |
| He disappears into her cold, icy womb |
| zuò cí : Gelotte, Stromblad | |
| Staring there, leaning to the city moon | |
| Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms | |
| The black clad voyeur in his black clad masque | |
| In the serpentine sun of tragedy basked | |
| Stood there cursing at the soul dead mass | |
| With their fabled illusions, vain dreams that passed | |
| Splinters of a life rushing by in the whirl | |
| A lone silent warrior in a fantasy world | |
| He cried for night but night could not come | |
| So swept in the shroud of misanthrope, he went away | |
| And fed the empty galleries | |
| With the artifacts of the black rain | |
| Sunken into the shadows with a dry sardonic smile | |
| He made the footprints a part of his heart | |
| To rouse a sacred confrontation | |
| Stood at the carving on the monument telling lies | |
| Digging of the earth, making friends with the soil | |
| As the all mother rises and bares her bleeding thighs | |
| He disappears into her cold, icy womb |