Lyrics
Breaking Customs.
cryptic in nature
sore winner game players never say sorry.
pawn pieces fall into place.
checked then quickly erased
in a case of vigoursly chase the undead man.
Standing upon a concrete-hell under heaven
spreading bone wings singing aloud my spell book.
(Constantly mistook)
So read over the drenched blood-red ink on these scrolls.
Easily they can change the heat-drought to a freezing cold
winter wonderland.
Ice skulpting phoenix images in accord
with my ancient blacksmith skilled built sword.
