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Wash from the sky the moon and stars.
I am no messenger of martyrs.
Unfold the path to euphoria.
I am no messiah of men.
Drain from my veins and offering of God.

This desolate place, denounce me.
The revery gaze, take from me.
The fortunate grave, rest me.
Sound the trumpet of doom.

On my tongue rest the praise of the first murderer.
In my hand rests the key to liberation.

The fortunate grave, rest me.
Sound the trumpet of doom.

On my tongue rest the praise of the first murderer.
In my hand rests the key to liberation.

Wash from the sky the moon and stars.
I am no messenger of martyrs.
If night was longer could I escape the day?

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