| We tore him from his throne and bound him in chains
|
| Dragged him through the wastes and scarred his face
|
| The tyrant and despoiler mocked and caged
|
| Held down and bound in a prison of mirrors
|
| I saw his face, contorted
|
| By the flagellation
|
| I saw the faithful mourning
|
| Sordid consegration
|
| But no death was granted him as he languished away
|
| With taunting forms around him, he waited and declined
|
| Bided his time awaiting his escape
|
| I saw his face, contorted
|
| By the flagellation
|
| I saw the faithful mourning
|
| Sordid consegration
|
| And slowly driven mad by the remembrance of what he was
|
| Looking upon his wrecked visage in the mirrors
|
| He clawed out his eyes, refusing to see
|
| To feel the anguish of his mutilated form
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| He waits beneath the sea
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| Soon he will be free
|
| A final act of vengeance, of torment taken shape
|
| Reflections of the pain that was his fate
|
| Disciples of hatred killed whom they found
|
| To mimic the ruin of the god we drowned
|
| I saw his face, contorted
|
| By the flagellation
|
| I saw the faithful mourning
|
| Sordid consegration
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| The tide is rising
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| Now come the whirlwinds
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| The maelstrom grows bigger
|
| The god we drowned lives on
|
| The god we drowned |