Kings of our emptiness, the flagellants align

(Ware to walk the painted)

Their mouths fill with questions, blessed they are by God′s tokens(The painted path)

Blessed they are by God's tokens

Walking the painted path through our plague fields

(Ware to walk the painted path)

(Through the plague fields)

Kings of this carousel, disfigured upon white horses

With Goya′s claws and Dore's wings

Down golden locks to red crosses

Crowned children screaming from funeral shrouds

To rapid eye movement, heart-strings undone

Our beautiful filth dances

And plague flowers

Why our wall to reason fall, only human

Kings of our emptiness, the flagellants align

Their mouths fill with ashes and death's tongue

The dappled dying

(And plague colours)

Flowering cold grey tombs

With crumbling walls, I feel

(A masterpiece of pain)

Our truth is laid bare

(The portrait of what we are)