Testo di The Prison

Prison for the damned soul Has no space for standing For something called the ideal Or against the lies Nor is there room To lie down and wither Just enough to bear witness To the hated life What's the worth of the light of the sun Without the fire of hate and lust it awakes? And, what good is the light of the moon Without spilled blood for it to bless? The black sun worshipper Denied himself, denied life Because of his convictions He let everything fade away Is it a choice to abandon The inner saviour, inner master When your fate didn't matter Even to those most luminous beings? What's the worth of the light of the sun Without the fire of hate and lust it awakes? And, what good is the light of the moon Without spilled blood for it to bless?