A mind of its own, spawn out of fire The demon becomes a God A child,
two-faced and innocent Transcending Control, fragments of
nothing Enslaving, reversed humane Empires made out of nothing but
air Creation fails
Hungry he laughs at us all Sacred is noyhing no
more
In the eyes of the dead, at the edge of the night In an oath of
blood we are sacred In the eyes of the dead, still nothing revealed The
wounds they still bleed, and won't heal
Blood in the sands, slaves to
the hunger Heaven denies them all A god, a dome for its pleasures and
lust Possession The falls prophets of nothing Promise but take it
back The one, the futile and venomous son Will torture
