18 acessos
This trail is obsidian, the grip of winter uncoiled
A lover would follow me
Cast down and sworn to the dark
Take the road where devils speak
God is dead, God is dead
The wealth of darkness
Inside you, telling you "now"
Senses corrupted
Controlling a poisonous will
Take the road where devils speak
God is dead, God is dead
In the corner of my eye
Tearing flesh from bone
Led the blind in search to find
A pathway to the sun
Saw the signs intertwined
And forgave me all my sins
Why?
No stigmas revealing our vices
And there are no stigmas revealing our vices
God is dead, God is dead