| Feared and outcast we stand, workers of magic
|
| The keepers of the balance of life
|
| Crafted in age old rituals keeping the earth
|
| In delicate equilibrium
|
| Watching in revulsion the oblivious crowd
|
| Taking control of this world
|
| Feeling replaced by theorem and laws of nature
|
| Replaced by the nature of law
|
| Heeding what your hallowed books command you
|
| You abide by rules you believe divine
|
| Masters of the black art of secrets of life
|
| Versus the reason of man
|
| Inventing machines of destruction
|
| Believing it to be a sanctified gift from your gods
|
| Spinning your wheels of fortune
|
| Playing with powers you cannot comprehend
|
| But when all cards have been played
|
| And none remain you may be holding the fatal one
|
| Heeding what your hallowed books command you
|
| You abide by rules you believe divine
|
| Heeding what your hallowed books command you
|
| You’ll die on your knees before your shrine
|
| Knowledge without wisdom is like a poisonous flower
|
| That blossoms in spring
|
| The ignorant who picks her, will pick only death
|
| Taking innocent lives with him
|
| Crafting your machines of war
|
| The barrels of your cannons obscure the sky
|
| Of a world in its final hour
|
| Oh yeah
|
| Proud of yourselves
|
| All headed for destruction
|
| Maimed misguided souls
|
| Marching on towards the end
|
| Hallowing the martyrs
|
| Who right before them fell
|
| Chanting names of gods
|
| Who open up the gates
|
| Of hell |