Teksty: A Different Breed Of Killer. The Glorious Fall.

A bittersweet reality in the death of an entity.
No purpose is left for a righteous mercenary.
All that's left is the glorious fall or my reign is not complete.
As a product of sin and self-indulgence I will give into my own cause.
I will die by my own blood drenched hands.
My departure will be the end of this clockwork holocaust.
A tense feel of accomplishment will echo through the halls of the dead.
I will make a worthy enemy as i try to defy my demise.
And when my labyrinth senses air down I will plunge to where I'm from.
I was the genocide as I prepare to die I will breathe a sigh of relief.
And from this moment on.
I am free