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Where cold winds blow I was layed to rest
I can not reach my rusty weapons;
The blood and sword that guided my path
For they drowned in the sands of wisdom

I was, indeed, a king of the flesh
My blackened edges; still they were sharp
Honoured by the carnal herdes
But asketh thou: closed are the gates?

My mind cut my winged weapons
The teeth that was my pride
And from the forest all would hear:
"Wisdom opens the gate for the king"

My weapons sighted - my tears they tasted
Summon my warriors - to the land of desire
To the domain of hate - where cold winds blew
For lust for hell - we rode with the north wind

Only I could accomplish a fucken self-deceit
There are only two paths - the mind or the sword
And the mind was open like the sights in a dream
But the sword was like a stone around my neck

I entered the soul of the snake
And slept with the armageddish whore
But without my throne and my weapons;
Where cold winds blow became my grave

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