Lyrics
Woe to you.
I was born dead
It was three nights and three hours before fullmoon
I am The Reaper
There has been found away to brew the pot of Armageddon
When times tell you this it answers to make it happen by wish
Pragmatic the reflection of a Woe,
in waters of wisdom and hate, by time
One does (...) make misty eyes winged but now also penetrating
Within the Golden Walls
Man
I see you've got an hypnotic stench
-Within your mind
-Soul
Strangled, Burnt, Buried and Drowned
Would I let you like the way to spirit any kind of a
"One Last Word"?
Are you preset to sacrifice?
Are you preset to sacrifice?