Where cold wings blow i (was) laid to rest
i can not reach my rusty weapons
the blood and sword that guided my path
for they drowned in the sands of wisdom
I was, indeed, a king of the flesh
my blackened edges; still they were sharp
honoured by the carnal herds
but asketh thou: closed are the gates?
My mind cut my winged weapons
and teeth that was my pride
and from the forest all would hear:
"wisdom opens the gate for the king"
My weapons sighted - my tears they tasted
summon my warriors - to the land of desire
to the domain of hate - where cold winds blew
for lust for hell - we rode with the north wind
Only i could accomplish a fucken self-deceit
there are only two paths - the mind or the sword
and the mind was open like the sights in a dream
but the sword was like a stone around my neck
I entered the soul of the snake
and slept with the armageddish whore
(but) without my throne and my weapons;
where cold winds blow became my grave