Dealing with evil, shaking the reaper's hand,
You sold him your soul, now he
seals your fate.
The poison in your blood soon took all control,
In the realm
of shadows, on the razor's edge you crawl.

The phantom's reflect in your
mirror;
The phantom of whom you were before.
It's not too late, turn back the
wheel,
And avoid this awfull fall.
The phantom's reflect in your mirror;
The
phantom of whom you were before.
It's not too late, time's getting short,
And
hard will be the road.

Black trip in hell through shadowland
Roaming
without aim through shadowland

Now, what's the use in your "search for
freedom",
You'll never be free addicted to the needle.
You enter this world,
the realm of the slaves,
The eternal fall, you dig your own grave.

Reading in their crystal ball, their holy icon of lies.
And they see what you
wanna see, and they hear what you wanna hear.
Still they are making their
profit of weakness and the sadness
Of poor men who have lost all hope, all
faith and will to live.

Sneaking in-deep in mind and soul,
Deceitfully-so
high's the fall

Sly-Divine art of lies
Lie-Divine art of lies

Vicious,
sly, they're addicted to the desperation of men,
They're making amounts of
money from cruel desolation.
Those bastards are becoming rich with modern
slavery,
It's a shame to see those thieves in the 21th century.