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 shit.
	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.