A never-ending spring from the caves of the world
The world made of flesh and clay
Rivers of pious fluids through the perished land
The land of the matter, not here to stay
Flow through these chambers
Torch these dying embers
Fulfill this empty vessel of mine
Wash my eyes to see
Wordless psalms in the buried convent
The convent of four altars
THe king is suffering from the hungerland the thirst
Flow through these chambers
Torch these dying embers
Fulfill this empty vessel of mine
Wash my eyes to see
Spill and show my colour of the true confession
Confession of wisdom out of reach
I am the most loyal and humblest martyr
Martyr just for me
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
