FUCK ICE 3 (Iron Fangs) Only the hands of desperate cowards Cling so tightly, grasp this hard Until every life blurs into one Until we are the faces in the crowd When it takes six pathetic slugs To murder only one of us They have to know their days are numbered And coming to the end

How much more righteous I would be Coming on black-tipped wings With eyes that shine with mourning With sword red-tipped with wrath How...

The King in Red Even in Arcadia Amidst such hallowed meadows Such guarded pastures Such simple days These mournful measures Morbid tunes...

Trending towards a kind of darkness Towards a sickness cyclical Advertised with slickness cynical A vision miserable before our eyes A...