Cult of Kings Songtext
von A Dozen Black Roses

Cancer of the weak
Voices unheard
Buried in regret
Blade of vengeance
Essence of the weak
Small cries for help
Buried with the dead
An image of salvation

We are born together (without mercy)
Cultivating stolen thoughts
Fixated on the truth
Or to bury our lies


You dig into
Nails pierce my corneas
And cover your ears
As I choke on my blood

Heaven is a prison
An escape to see the truth
Heaven is a fucking prison
Incarcerated in the blood of Christ

Cut my wrists
Bear my fucking chain

You dig into me
My flesh, paper thin
A witness begging for mercy
But a backbone to endure

Zenith rooted to a lifeless vessel
A vision of angels cut the throat of God
Rains of blood conceived
Mortality above

I want to die at the feet of the Cult of Kings