This trail is obsidian, the grip of Winter uncoiled A lover would follow me Cast down and sworn to the dark Take the road where devils speak God is dead The wealth of darkness Inside you, tell you: Now Your senses corrupted Controlling a poisonous will Take the road where devils speak God is dead In the corner of my eye You are tearing flesh from bone Led the blind in search to find A pathway to the sun Saw the signs intertwine And forgave me all my sins No stigmas revealing our vices And there are no stigmas revealing our vices God is dead