die, lead my remains into the fire So that my soul flies and I reach the end of the line Burnt to a shell I know a deep dark secret, I know a lie I
Translation: Haunted. Burnt To A Shell.
remains into the fire. So that my soul flies, and I reach the end of the line. Burnt to a shell... I know a deep dark secret - I know a lie. I learned
rewind your life Before silver and gold slowly replaced your eyes It's all that you need, all that you wanted Shell of a man that greed has now haunted
(I) old haunts I found a home in the darkness, found a home in the darkness, found a home in the darkness, Empty stomach empty head a body fills a vacant
dooms darkest destiny my lust to mutilate, subjugate and abuse i satisfy with torn flesh from a barbed wire noose a sledgehammer to the ribcage a hacksaw
sun into the glare of the moon... Beams of light form a new being, a shape of whirling materia. My evil soul, my tyrannous spectre becomes unchained - A
die My mind's tearing itself apart Screaming from the inside Release this pain from my fucking heart Destroy the empty shell Smash away the haunting
Sweet red lips were laced with shame Burning like eternal flame Reached the point of no return Once inside you know, you'll burn For sweet Miss Valentine
The daughters of flame She slept under my wing A cold embrace Death's loyal servant now filled with pain Forever haunted by her angelic face By my burning
of Geppeddo's woodwork asylum cedar frame, wire-bound knuckles let a tug of the puppeteer steer my hustle well when a page becomes a squire, re-engage, clap your wings When a
the unclean Cut your flesh from your mind Devils in disguise, reprise, burned, swollen Chapter three This life of mind but a vapor Specks of dust on a
moon at night Haunted my mortal heart... You who made these ancient walls Shine like divine marble The unwanted breath - through creedence A derelict shell
hide A place where falling angels survive A place where fear rusts though pride A place where heroes go to die An empty shell, a carcass left of greed
almost quote From your quiver of literary darts A thousand or so tuneless violins Thrilling your cheap little heart Who do you think you are? My cigarette burns
I feel a pain next to mine Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I don't think He died for me I know that Heaven is a burnt out shell I know forgiveness
in every glare A failure that mirrors itself with a foreign stare Hold it together you'll find your peace But the pieces are burnt shells that frame regret
