A mind of its own, spawn out of fire
  The demon becomes a God
  A child, two-faced and innocent
  Transcending
  Control, fragments of nothing
  Enslaving, reversed humane
  Empires made out of nothing but air
  Creation fails
  
  Hungry he laughs at us all
  Sacred is noyhing no more
  
  In the eyes of the dead, at the edge of the night
  In an oath of blood we are sacred
  In the eyes of the dead, still nothing revealed
  The wounds they still bleed, and won't heal
  
  Blood in the sands, slaves to the hunger
  Heaven denies them all
  A god, a dome for its pleasures and lust
  Possession
  The falls prophets of nothing
  Promise but take it back
  The one, the futile and venomous son
  Will torture