the
pain-ter of the an-guish dra-wing
the pic-ture of my soul
my nar-row path lead me to
black ga-tes+of fear that o-pen up
i-ron wills
in-kling wi-thin
be-fore the brush tints it red
a-gain
cros-sing blades
sharp ship routes in the o-cean
spoo-ky dust
and his grey eyes
mi-rror of mine
La-dies and gen-tle-men
wel-come to o-ur un-be-lie-va-ble dream-land, remember
Through the fla-mes of the run-ning ni-ght, even
the wise stops to see, omen of a dying morning...
I hear the mon-ster screa-ming
its migh-ty bat-tle cry
two de-sti-nies are blee-ding
but his one stops to-night
from the no-where where he came from
now thun-ders start to roar
his blood drips from my ar-mor
it is my chance to run
run
[parlato a se stesso]
Run a-way and tum-ble
and for-get who you are
Drop the steel and spill to earth
the beer you had to-night
the drunk men os-tra-ci-sm
my path has yet to find
uh
Torn to shreds by the fury of the cold metal
subjugated by my dying past
I aim my shining tears to the howling forest
trapdoor of my last wills
