Saturday, March 5, 2005
Now I am cold but a ghost lives in my veins,
Silent the terror that reigned-marbled in stone
Shell of a man God preserved-a thousand ages
But open the gates of my hell-I will strike from the grave.
Tell me why I had to be a powerslave
I don’t wanna die, I’m a god, why can’t I live on?
When the life giver dies, all around is laid to waste.
And in my last hour, I’m a slave to the power of death.