Where Cold Wings Blow I (was) laid to Rest I Can not reach my Rusty Weapons the Blood and Sword that Guided my Path for they Drowned in the Sands of Wisdom I was, indeed, a King of the Flesh My Blackened Edges; still they were Sharp Honoured by the Carnal Herds but asketh thou: Closed are the Gates? My Mind cut my Winged Weapons and Teeth that was my Pride And from the Forest all would hear: "Wisdom Opens the Gate for the King" My Weapons Sighted - My Tears they Tasted Summon my Warriors - To the Land of Desire To the Domain of Hate - Where Cold Winds Blew For Lust for Hell - We Rode with the North Wind Only I could accomplish a fucken Self-deceit There are only Two Paths - the Mind or the Sword And the Mind was Open like the Sights in a Dream But the Sword was like a Stone around my neck I Entered the Soul of the Snake and Slept with the Armageddish Whore (but) without my Throne and my Weapons; Where Cold Winds Blow became my Grave