| Song | Through Self-Mutilation |
| Artist | Carpathian Forest |
| Album | Morbid Fascination of Death |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Natterfrost | |
| The self-mutilation | |
| Necrosis of the soul | |
| Dark is the shadows of life | |
| Hot as Hell | |
| You take the matters into your own hands | |
| From now on it's downhill | |
| A single candle burns - | |
| In the vast consuming darkness | |
| Uplifting like a funeral | |
| Through these years you were created | |
| In the void between life and death | |
| A shimmering blade shreds through his flesh | |
| At the peak of his night - time bliss | |
| Misanthropes, kings and queens | |
| And a painful vision of | |
| Hell It burns | |
| The blisters on your hands | |
| So nebulous, dark as | |
| December You should be dead by now | |
| Lost in time and space | |
| But you push the limits further | |
| You hate the human race |
| zuo qu : Natterfrost | |
| The selfmutilation | |
| Necrosis of the soul | |
| Dark is the shadows of life | |
| Hot as Hell | |
| You take the matters into your own hands | |
| From now on it' s downhill | |
| A single candle burns | |
| In the vast consuming darkness | |
| Uplifting like a funeral | |
| Through these years you were created | |
| In the void between life and death | |
| A shimmering blade shreds through his flesh | |
| At the peak of his night time bliss | |
| Misanthropes, kings and queens | |
| And a painful vision of | |
| Hell It burns | |
| The blisters on your hands | |
| So nebulous, dark as | |
| December You should be dead by now | |
| Lost in time and space | |
| But you push the limits further | |
| You hate the human race |
| zuò qǔ : Natterfrost | |
| The selfmutilation | |
| Necrosis of the soul | |
| Dark is the shadows of life | |
| Hot as Hell | |
| You take the matters into your own hands | |
| From now on it' s downhill | |
| A single candle burns | |
| In the vast consuming darkness | |
| Uplifting like a funeral | |
| Through these years you were created | |
| In the void between life and death | |
| A shimmering blade shreds through his flesh | |
| At the peak of his night time bliss | |
| Misanthropes, kings and queens | |
| And a painful vision of | |
| Hell It burns | |
| The blisters on your hands | |
| So nebulous, dark as | |
| December You should be dead by now | |
| Lost in time and space | |
| But you push the limits further | |
| You hate the human race |