Awakened to the sound of lies
Blessed with a wicked pride
Random yet golike
Consuming but well worth its prive
Not to become the thing I already am
Followed by mercy towards the ones deserving pain
Revenge is a wine
It will mature with time
Wrath without hate will serve us fine
It isn't your mind that dreams
But your heart
Believe the lies it sees
Cherish the tender memories
Nurture and they become reality
Not to become the thing I already am
Followed by mercy towards the ones deserving pain
Revenge is a wine
It will mature with time
Wrath without hate will serve us fine
You take my hand and look me in the eye
I'm the god of emptiness
With plain hollow to supply
Yours to behold
Yours to defy
Wrath without hate must serve us fine
