Arya Marga

I'll rear your flesh! I'm prisoner of my own thoughts The holy flesh' production The blood of my own is your truth But my rage of destruction Mankind had crossed the line Where I could not smell their stench Victimized roles of this play Nothing more

Deep in the autumn's grave I lay Watching grey sky cries day by day Hearing the silent song of the past Feeling my future how comes to dust Winter comes on a yesterday's rain With bitter smile is painted in grey Dressed in a suit of frozen tears They

We illumed by light of lore We search it in the scrolls Etched by magi of yore And covered by eternal glory The ignorance slayeth us rapidly We obey the mad crowd's desires And stride like lambs after shepherd By the direct way toward infernal fires