Sink to mothers sick world Ripping soars of blackned hate Shadows guide his hand Stills a soul and grips onto a promised fate True death awaits Wicked words are whispered Streams in a ghostly sickened dance Thicking time bomb The fuses led, all hope and reasons lost One more life that should not be One more death won't set him free One more prayer, more wrath his will Once more free to bind, torture, kill Nailed to the cross in sin Choking a life so innocent His God, his madness He is the sum of all your fears Death approaches when he nears In a dark room, king of pain Pure lunacy his realm Puppet masters moving string Pull thigh on evil reign Automated play-thing Finger points to a palace of skulls Trophies hang, the hunters prize You become his pray More wrath his will Death won't set him free More wrath his will Life that should not be More wrath his will Death won't set him free More wrath his will Death approaches when he nears