The Hands of Chaos

To be the

God - to be the

Man, to be the power - not to be a slave.

To be the

Fire - to be the

Hell, to be the

Ice - not to be the wave.

To be the

Chaos - to be the

Blackness, to be the

Moon - not to be the

Sun. To be the

Night - to be the

Darkness, to be the

Blood - not to be the

Fear. The hands of

Chaos, the heavens burning.

I spirit on it... my last sacrifice.

The dark vails hide our faces, in bloody dreams

I hear the breath of woods.

To be the

Dusk, to be the

Dawn, to be the

Free, to be the

Spawn. High grass stretches its to the

Moon, it's burried in the grass among the deep forest.

The crack of trees is like the harmony of nature that makes me listen to the silence.

I hear the silence,

I see the night, my hands are cold like the breath of winter.

The blood doesn't run through these veins, it left my body.

The wounds don't disturb and pain is gone.

The darkness is eternal!

And life of the master of blackness is immortal!

The hands of

Chaos on the burned heaven ashes.

In my immortality has been born.

To be the

Thunder - to be the

Eminence, to be

Silence - to be the

Grave, to be the

Sword - to be the

War, to be the peace - to be the ****.

To be the hird - to be the sky, to be the cloud - to be immortal, to be the

God - to be the

Man, to be the

Power - to be the

God, to be the

Chaos.