Down The Stairs He Walks
Towards What He Lusts For
The Grim Art on The Wall
Makes Him Want More
A Chamber Full of Hate
Carpets Made of Human Limbs
He Enjoys The Air He Breathes
He Does No Longer Grief
Into The Halls of Pain
Where d**h Is The Only Art
Welcome To Those
With Their Torture Hearts
Fascinated By Brutal d**hs
He Continues His Search Alone
In The Eternal Hails of Torture
He Walks Until The Gate Is Open
He Does Not Want To Turn Back
He Has Found His Pa**ion
While The Flowers Rot At Winter
His Mind Grows Sicker And Sicker
All The Gates of Which He Pa**ed
Is Now Sealed In Blood
I Hope He's Found His World of Dreams
I Enjoy The Torture Art
Down The Stairs He Walks
Towards What He Lusts For
The Grim Art on The Wall
Makes Him Want More
A Chamber Full of Hate
Carpets Made of Human Limbs
He Enjoys The Air He Breathes
He Does No Longer Grief
Fascinated By Brutal d**hs
He Continues His Search Alone
In The Eternal Hails of Torture
He Walks Until The Gate Is Open
He Does Not Want To Turn Back
He Has Found His Pa**ion
While The Flowers Rot At Winter
His Mind Grows Sicker And Sicker