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