Bastant tilauBastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'Bastant tila'I'll surrender to GodI'll reach out and stand onLonging for heaven's dark earthWith eyes to guide the King's dark pathA wielder of sickness marching onAfraid in the name of what is doneI'll hear my callYour faith, my curse, shall be allWhen the spring was torn into the nightA bloody thing to shape pure whiteAll the dreams and lies lived insideI'll be onthe other sideWhen the spring was torn into the nightA bloody thing to shape pure whiteAnd the one from here on to the skiesTo face the beast by only a knifeJack-o-bantTouched by the nightA thousand angels eyes of lightLonging for heaven's dark earthWith eyes to guide the King's dark earthLiving within its heightAfraid to come in lightFrom fears of mourningFrom fears of mourningBut these are nothingEach one only a knifeA wielder of sickness marching onAfraid in the name of what is doneI'll hear my callYour faith, my curse, shall be allA wielder of sickness marching onAfraid in the name of what is wonI'll hear my callYour faith, my curse, shall be all