Alea Iacta Est

Sharp steel cuts a breathless body

Slender fingers go into flesh like snakes

Extract liver, squeeze a wheezing heart

Crimson blood flows on to the floor and the feet of the waiting

Prophecies of an old oracle, beyond our generation and time, escape his lips in Latin

In his eyes there's a demon of the future and his lips express the meaning of the ritual

"The treasure you will find is washed with crimson blood,

It lies on the bones of your people that will fall.

To possess power, on the day of the sign, curse the land with war between fathers and sons

The on who will light the star of death in time, will get immortality and will open the gates of the Genesis

You are enemies to each other, everyone standing in the room

The one who has ancient blood in his veins will be your obstacle,

Your grave, your ending

Wearing a crown of gold and thorns he will sit down on a throne in silence

Pointing the finger with a ring.