holy truth unholy kind searching every ruined house teasing every ruined mind holy words unholy lies in the visions of tomorrow on the grimace of the skies
I can sing the song of all the seasons past I can tell the stories of slaves and masters I can play with time and tear the souls apart and possess the burden to be the last one
and the whole dying world will forget me again all my dreams and my fears and faces and names in the time of no color i do what i can in the time when the story ends
holy dreams unholy blood fall in every burning city dwell in every burning heart open pages for none writing words and revelations on the surface of the sun
tell me all the tales of how we came this far how we turned the wheels of all our fortunes every effort fails and every shining star falls into the arms of death and torture
and the whole dying world won’t accept me at last and my angels will try their wings on my hands they embrace me with silence and feed me with dust in the time when the story ends
holy wars unholy greed in the heads already lifeless in the darkness of defeat tell me how to hold my breath under heavy weight of ages in the bloody hand of death
I can feel the world that burns beneath my feet there is nothing left no cries to hear only ashes cold and open wounds to bleed in the winds of fire i disappear
and the whole dying world holds no powers for me in the strange and disturbing remains of these lands in the time of no sense and no reason to be in the time when the story ends