These are barren lands
Of steer and cold
Desert night
Of frozen time

Endless fields of -
Has lost is trail
The blood of war

Cold lair
Howling winds of sand,
Hunger, violence, solitary, godless

This scenery
So far so burned
So beautiful
It yearns for more

These are barren lands
Of steer and cold
Desert night of frozen time

Unforgiving heart
Giving into the ways of wars

This is a lions lair

Frozen Lakes On Mars
Red fiery star, god of war
Blood stained archon in the sky
Far beyond the reach of those again

From the west, from the east
Burning red, terror completely
To watch the throne, cranial vent volcano
Upon this temple gave out of all who came
This impending cranium

Blue eyes like frozen lakes on mars, made fury
That there once was life inside
Blue eyes like frozen lakes on mars,
The cold remains the fires died
The mountain crown, has surpassed sanction
The Hermie final rapture, the ultimate descent
Into the deepest Vally of death

Drained in the all consuming sands of
Far beyond the reach of those again

Blue eyes like frozen lakes on mars, made fury
That there once was life inside
Blue eyes like frozen lakes on mars,
The cold remains the fire dies

Quiet surface
Blurred reflection
Heaven's mirror
Calm awake

Like glass until it breaks
Like glass until it breaks

Peaceful silence
Pressing void
Moving shadows
In the melody

Like glass until it breaks
Like glass until it breaks

No ships set sail on this ocean
No longing gaze from the shores
No screams drown in this deafening storm
But echoes of remorse

A formless driftwood sculpture
Soars above the sunken towers
Of this broken, long-lost kingdom
This wrecked Atlantis

Now behold the premonition
The golden crest of waves
The globes of crimson fire
As the ocean drinks the sun

Deep, deep down
The mouth of pandemonium opens wide
Deep, deep down
When its not that beast
When its not that beast
Not that beast

Just like secrets, twisted alibis, for empty graves,
Unlike manors, cut and burned, a thousand times

Not like ours, coiled in coffins, weeping echoes,
Weeping echoes

Not by statues, golden monuments, war houses of worship
Unlike manors, where the great white sails, torn to shreds, no!

Not by promises, hungry shadows, in cold dark alleys,
These rocky shores, are crafted, by the pulse of the sail,
Ah, by the pulse of the sail!

And here I go on...