I Bleed
The Screams Of Widow's Son
One hundred and ninety three heads bleed
While a head is emerging
Horrors and phobias are silenced
Before your eyes the portrait of death
Disguised as love and hateful peace
Portrait of death will not burn tonight as he looks at the sky tears of blood flow
Ritually brutal plus an angelic face
Will be cut at dawn
Portrait of death
You see what I see
By one hundred and ninety-three heads
That rot in your castle
Built with the bones of the damned
Mud and blood stain bare feet
Of those who tread the sacred land
Lost in the future and will be found in the past
Symmetrically
Disengage heads
Symmetrically
They agonize and bleed
In front of the lord of this world... I bleed!
The word game is over
Embers burn my flesh
Angels become demons
Coming from human ashes
The end of this world has arrived
Remains of skin and bones on the floor
The stench is carried by the wind
Naked and barefoot, a new man
Walks between the heads
Who bleed trying to decapitate
The only head emerging from the sea
And in front of the lord of this world... I bleed!
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