Letra de The Alchemist's Head
We are in deep water now Our rotten bond is a sickness of soul How we loathe and envy All murderers in equal measureWhat pale god is this Whose robes you wear And what iconoclasm Upon the wings of pestilence Has swept the halls Of the pious clay And dulled your blade As you prepare for deathWhen he had spoken Stretch out your arms Embrace the flame of fire He was consumed and arose You will have this world Whether you will it or not In hell's cold lights we will sit And we will judge them allIf there is a reward for this When shall it come? When shall the trumpet sound? Ominous and deep To the ends of the earth To ends... To the ends of the earth