It must be some kind of art to do anything
For ten straight years, and not become a master
Ten straight years, and not get any better
This war I wage is so perfect and right
Blitzkrieg through the night
This darkness will devour your light
I move with the power and strength of a thousand
My path of destruction, a natural reduction of filth
A man is only worth his word
So any value you once had has now expired
Now it's war
You've crossed the line that you have drawn
Now its war
My sword will hold you to your word
And release you from this world with honor
I'll turn your thumb screws down
Force the sins from your guts
And give you the means to an end
Which you truly deserve
It's much too late
You are the target in my sight
I must admit it feels so right
My will and vision beautiful and bright
Own, reap what you have sown
