Schatten Aus Der Alexander Welt

Ruthless murderer reveling in crimson pages
I spill the cursed blood of your childlike corpse
and await with fervent devotion
the redeeming desire of my much praised downfall

Storm is brewing and I feel the tear
whose thorn plunges deep into the pool of my
prophecy

Sheer destruction surrounds my casual
thighs
the center can no longer hold
and it only takes two shots to kill the king

And when the circle of the hanged speaks
and the faded light shatters in black wine
the penance of the dead horse
will fall into my harsh darkness