In the I lies the martyr, the willing sacrifice    Stand before the selfdestructive sadist    Hand him the knife    Because he owns the illusion       In pain revel the fear, the value of blood    Sharpen all edges to blind the chimera    Sigh; the masters of the earth will no longer kneel    Rip a wound that will never heal       Then mend the loss of christ       Unfolding the rivalry of white dreams wishes    And the sign of the horns shall appear to many       In birth the wicked dwell    In a human shell    Ashes of the original sin lies therin    And each one born    Will be a regent in an age of the horn       In pain revel the fear, the value of blood    Sharpen all edges to blind the chimera