The Devil's Orchard

This trail is obsidian, the grip of Winter uncoiled
A lover would follow me
Cast down and sworn to the dark

Take the road where devils speak
God is dead

The wealth of darkness
Inside you, tell you: Now
Your senses corrupted
Controlling a poisonous will

Take the road where devils speak
God is dead

In the corner of my eye
You are tearing flesh from bone

Led the blind in search to find
A pathway to the sun
Saw the signs intertwine
And forgave me all my sins

No stigmas revealing our vices
And there are no stigmas revealing our vices

God is dead