Wintersun

I am the wintersun, Watching from my eternal grave,

You are an eternal slave, To life's empty game.

Where are your thoughts this time,

Lost in the tragedy of a cursed dime,

You must remain a perfect tragedy,

As you chase a never ending malady.

Earthly beings enthral your senses,

Be wise, for you are all but machinations,

Cavorting in voids steeped in false defences,

How long will you serve these depraved masters?

How long shall we dance in god's misery?

How long shall we call for salvation?

How long shall we crave absolution?

How long shall we remain blind to this asymmetry?

I am the wintersun, Watching from my eternal grave,

Alive in the opaque sentiment, Of which I am sentient.

I dream in shadows decline,

I am redeemed of the world's atrophy,

I awake from ghosts of past grandeurs,

Your gods have never seen Gethsamane.

Why do you birth children of circumstance?

Is it because you were born of a lie?

The world shall remain without end,

For wrath upon the land shall I send.

Why do you cry for a life lived in pain?

When on mountains they could lie down to die?

Shrouded in ice and preserved for the angels?

In shallow graves shall their souls cry.

The anti-god beams forth the righteous way,

Shining forth the kingdom of man,

The anathema of world religions,

Shall absolve in the seas of new hope.

For I am the wintersun, Of all that is true, beyond any prophet's story,

For mine is the kingdom and mine is the glory,

For I am King of the harshest winter.