Executor کے بول

I climb the stairs of the wooden stage The silent hand of a kingdom's rage My iron mask hides a twisted grin The work of death is about to begin The lords they whisper the names of the dead I raise the steel above your head I feel the pulse of the crowd below I love the blood and the crimson flow Was it justice or just a lie? Another soul is condemned to die A thousand eyes from the world of ghost I am the one they hate the most Innocent souls are screaming in hate They're trapped in the dark behind the gate There is no peace for the dead you've made Until you fall by your own cold blade A thousand eyes from the world of ghost I am the one they hate the most Innocent souls are screaming in hate They're trapped in the dark behind the gate There is no peace for the dead you've made Until you fall by your own cold blade