Inquisitor.

(I AM, I AM, I AM, IAM...)

Lightning strikes
Through my fingertips
Static shocks
From the telephone
Hair that stands
On its very own
Snow that falls
From her silver lips
If i can't
Be yours
Then you might as well rip my eyes out
Underneath
The floors
The guillotine slowly cries out

For the coming of the ice queen
The cradle in her eyes
Remover of the fear
When everybody dies
The holder of the crystal
The wisdom of the sage
Thе middle of the blizzard
The sеtters of the stage

The letters on the page

Thistleblooms
From your fingertips
Ginger snaps
With a butcher knife
Lips so red
Like the bloody drips
From your teeth
At the end of life

Chemicals
Coursing through my veins
Little words
Looping in our brains
Can't be sure
'cause i can't be sure
Can't be sure
'cause my soul's not pure

Like the soul inside the ice queen
The cradle in her eyes
Remover of the fear
When everybody dies
The holder of the crystal
The wisdom of the sage
The knowledge of the prophet
The setters of the stage
The letters on the page