Steppes - Bölzer

I Haunt The White Plains Of Hell

And They Speak Not Of Truce

What Becomes Of The World

When My Death Is The Truth?

Justifying Your Orders

As If Life Was A Lie

To Be Blessed With Defeat

Medals For Which One Would Die

Well I Must Accept

What Have I Left, Of Hope Bereft?

The Pain

Of My Frozen Soul So Far From Home

Fuck It’s Cold

This War Of Wills Brought Nought But Ills

Forgotten

On The Steppes Of War, Forevermore

Oh How I Desire To Hold You

My Hands Know But Steel

And As Blood Turns To Rust

Means This Nightmare Is Real

I’d Been Clasping Your Picture

When Darkness It Came

Erasing Your Face,

From My Mind Fled Your Name

Here I Lie Again

Broken By Cold Hard Hand Of Fate

My Warm Fluid Innocence Invades The Ice

With Unavailing Fervour

Is My Spirit By Flesh Betrayed

And In The Wake Of Ruin

Beckoned The Temple To Abscond

But What Calibre Of Man Besieged

Would Submit To Such Ungodly Defeat?

Nay, Lest The Skies In Hunger Descend

Bow Shall I Not!

Raging Against The Great Beast

Rend The World In Twain

Divine Total Peace

Screaming Ghosts Of My Past

Bless Your Shattered Face

With The Tears I Shed

Anointing The Blades Of Revenge

With The Life I Piss

In The Face Of Death