Текст песни
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.
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