Flickers of suspicion in the gray firmament
On barren fields that are called Jdhavöllr
There is a rumbling that knows the answer
To the question that burns within us
Monarch of the mute is called If you find me in an anchorless time
As the blind emperor's herald, I stand by without question
The body rears up and down over the asphalt
By the time the tendrils come for me, I've been cold for many winters .
And so I scream from the roof
Of the evergreen hell
Into the gray hustle and bustle
That almost dry source
And I also strain in vain
/>Board by plank of my opera house
Time, it proves me right
And sweep you ragamuffins out
It goes behind me, under me. Stomps on the ground.
Hollow, do you hear? Everything is hollow down there. The Freemasons!
Come with me, just come, just come
No rank nor thorn holds me back - I am the wrath of God
The glass soul on an iron stele
A A memorial to mockery - this is YOUR son!
The desert streets flow ablaze
Through the extinct head. And they hurt me.
I feel clearly that I'll soon pass away -
Thorn roses of my flesh, don't sting like that.
The night grows moldy. Poison lantern light
Crawling, she smeared her with green dirt.
The heart is like a sack. The blood freezes.
The world falls over. The eyes collapse.
Truth is not recognized by the mouth of a lion
He roars it at you and yet is banished from you
Today I carry the lion's words into the world< br/>Where he was broken, there I go, illuminated by his spirit

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