My skin is cold,
and the birds fly free.
Over my head,
where winter grows.
A heathens call,
sack up our fall.
This world is yours,
for you to rule.
This,
the flood of sin,
flows freely.
This unstoppable force,
emanated bliss.
My skin is cold,
your skin is cold.
Like metal rock,
and a scent of leather.
And once they go,
with rain and wind.
Come tides of change,
and dreams come true.
I go with you,
on the path we make.
This,
the flood of sin,
flows freely.
This unstoppable force,
emanated bliss.
My skin is cold,
your skin is cold.
Snow-covered mountain,
I chase in awe.
Wondering who and what,
was here before.
I made my mark,
on that sacred soil.
This feeling grows,
from a pit of pain.
One day since then,
carrying the weight,
of a people's disgrace.
This is the turnaround,
driven by birthright,
and God's said will.
The time has come,
for you to rule.
This,
the flood of sin,
flows
freely.
This unstoppable force,
emanated bliss.
My skin is cold, your skin is cold.