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