| Towards the line that | |
| separates life from death | |
| Marching towards the freedom | |
| that you think you will win | |
| Heroes behind cowardly | |
| creations gives no respect | |
| Sleepless lie the enemies | |
| awaiting the next move | |
| A nothingness that is formed | |
| into something greatly | |
| A ghost that many others | |
| already have turned into | |
| We all are wandering towards | |
| extinction, coldness | |
| And this is where you | |
| want to create life? | |
| Giving birth to a life that is | |
| to follow the trace | |
| But the ghost you hunt will | |
| never ever let you win | |
| You sacrafice your life for it all, | |
| this is the end of the race | |
| The life you live will soon | |
| be taken for its sin | |
| Doomsday, the very last | |
| day in your existence | |
| The thought conjures cold | |
| shivers along your spine | |
| Have you done your share | |
| or have you fumbled? | |
| Hordes of people flees | |
| from their home | |
| Burning fires make your | |
| eyes become blind | |
| Transforming into beasts while | |
| judging and imitating their acts | |
| The mist of death spreads | |
| from land to land | |
| Burning fires make your | |
| eyes become blind | |
| And is this where you | |
| want to create life? | |
| A war built upon invented extraction | |
| You will become one in the end | |
| Or will you fall? | |
| You will get the answer | |
| A war built upon invented extraction | |
| You will become one in the end | |
| Or will you fall? | |
| You will get the answer |
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