Masquerade کے بول

Somewhere, at the edge of the Worlds The Black Angels are crawling forwards With their hands covered in blood They destroy the sacred earth The scream arised, like a bird The winds of fear has come To occupy the Earth Golden Bowl Named the Eucharist Celebrated by unconsious Prevail by the scoundrels! A golden tool Taking You to my hand After a moment i begin to doubt After a moment I drop! Broken holiness, broken faith Blood on my damned hand The Book of Myths laying on the tables In the houses of ordynary animals You are my legend My neverending story!