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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
The wealth of darkness
Inside you, tell you: Now
Your senses corrupted
Controlling a poisonous will
Take the road where devils speak
God is dead
In the corner of my eye
You are tearing flesh from bone
Led the blind in search to find
A pathway to the sun
Saw the signs intertwine
And forgave me all my sins
No stigmas revealing our vices
And there are no stigmas revealing our vices
God is dead
