Old Man's Child On Through The Desert Storm
We hail our light The sun of Satan For with thy might Come forth We dominate the world By one mightful force See the slaughtering Growing weak Born by vice And we drink of the Doomsday chalice And paint us with the blood of him Sowed into flames In their own pitiful graves I kiss the raven that flew with me Trough all the desert storms Winged by sorrow -- grief of man Flying high beneath the sky Quiet and silent through the Night cyclone Tears wet my throne Your dreams were not immortal I enter then my realm We hail our light The ethereal sun For with thy might paragon face We dominate the million eclipses
