You dare to ask me, my friend, saturated with terminal naivety: "What is the mystery of death?" I, in my malevolent fortress, shall welcome you into my quarters and will feast upon your innocence. You seek the mystery of death yet you penetrate my corridors, lined with my experiences, laced with malice. Your thirst shall begin to be quenched by the three kings who sing . . . . . for every spice, for every jewel, for every gun you trade with me my friend cannot gain you access to this eternal solution. Your thoughts, descended by a perpendicular laser of a satellite, projected from a self-proclaimed throne, have reflected off of my eyes the mirrored laughter which has always been . . . . . the origin of humor.
Lyrics submitted by boretronix