Kings of our emptiness, the flagellants align
(Ware to walk the painted)
Their mouths fill with questions, blessed they are by God′s tokens(The painted path)
Blessed they are by God's tokens
Walking the painted path through our plague fields
(Ware to walk the painted path)
(Through the plague fields)
Kings of this carousel, disfigured upon white horses
With Goya′s claws and Dore's wings
Down golden locks to red crosses
Crowned children screaming from funeral shrouds
To rapid eye movement, heart-strings undone
Our beautiful filth dances
And plague flowers
Why our wall to reason fall, only human
Kings of our emptiness, the flagellants align
Their mouths fill with ashes and death's tongue
The dappled dying
(And plague colours)
Flowering cold grey tombs
With crumbling walls, I feel
(A masterpiece of pain)
Our truth is laid bare
(The portrait of what we are)
