A count of darkness and power; he walks.
Manipulating with fright and harnessing his greed.
A non-causcoid with some of God's grace..
Sheds his skin at his face, while looking into his eyes.
Count of darkness, my friend....
Living to cure....

A man of faith lists his ungodly sins.
The dagger of time is slitting his wrists.
He floats away in the river of time.
To the labyrinth, the enemy of man.

The sword of god, The hand of justice.
An almighty slayer such walks.
Engrave his name on ivory, unforgettable...
The massacre...

I watch his fort in his throne of night.
Brought to ruins by the flames of time.
A man of sin fulfills his craving void;
Rests his head to the ideals of faith.
Does the actual prevailing justice await?
Or this non-ideal world meets another one of it's closed gates.

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