Dim sparks
from a flickering electric light
cast a shadow of a dark, obscure creature
in a dead dream.
Rusty nails I stung through my palm;
hold it, hold it tight
and I will take you to my throne
in a hall of shreaded flesh.
I am your god, I love your blood,
your dream is my world
and your body is my prison
but your death is my artistic expression!
So crown me with a crown of rusty nails
for I am the king of the impaled.
Your dripping blood is the beat
and your anguish screams are my sweet melodies.
So crown me with a crown of rusty nails
for I am the king of the impaled's dream.
Darkness, I found me in the night,
darkness, I found my light in the night.
Ravens, where do you come from
and ravens, where do you go?
They say that you are buried,
buried deep in the impaled's dream,
well, if so, take me there.
Or will we dance in her flame
as the nights were red
and the days, the days were black
she danced a demonic (and erotic) dance,
she danced as fire.
The silence used to be filled with empty joy,
take a stand, choose a direction.
Go away! Take me too,
take me away from myself.
I am darkness, I am death,
now the silence is pain
yet I do not mind
for I am the king,
I am the king of the impaled's dream

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