Putrid dreams of lucid flesh Morbid scenes of testate rest
When the light of the day star shines Your rule has ended When the final dawn arrives I am still man
Lurid rays of consciousness Languished ebb of sovereignty
Woe to the Shadow-bearer For impure is the soul imbued with frost And the god dost hold the hammer
Children are we Juxtaposed betwixt the ethereal imperium
Have no problem of evil-- Question the watchmaker's masterwork. The fools of time will count the strokes But upon the day's hand, death lies
Thy sculptor… thy creator… thy doom
Halogen stars far away The gods themselves stare down Ignite their laughter
Created in their image But from whence did that image come? Humanity is the true art And danger is in nature
Stand above heaven, eyes lifted To aeons beyond, where galaxies shiver Grip the paradox and shake it to the ground Where life still dwells, we perish not.
And as I observe what remains of this vision I scowl at what compliance with tradition has allowed And predict a new future to riseTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
