From where grows the seeds
The seeds that shalt fulfill the Earth
The seeds that in accretion creates
The wars, suffering and death in vain
And the martyrs of faith in humanity
Only a touch of reaper on pale skin
It's no more than an adventitious exhalation
May thou sleep in deep, neverending coma
The cold blessing may begin your journey
The time will take care of your carnal shell
While your mind is now free and aware
But only in lies may lay the truth
Only another touch of human on pale skin
It's no more than an adventitious exhalation