All their sanity is lost, all their minds are broken.
Straight into Hell, their pain is their token.
All their bodies are gone, and their souls are sold.
Bought with blood, not with silver nor gold.
A crown a top his head, he sits upon his throne.
He lives among the dead, in his castle made of bones.
We will walk among his gardens, within his weeping walls.
We will live among his gardens, until the fire consumes us all.