The ghost warriors fought on over the centuries
Never even knowing they were dead
Valhalla, paradise of violent souls
The ancient thunder god feeds upon their eternal rage
Forevermore

I can’t conceive of a world
Where violence is a product of love
Where deception is the hand of reception
Underneath the velvet glove
We watch and learn
Until our eyes grow tired
Lines form upon our faces
And it’s down to the wire
Yesterdays are forgotten
As life shrivels up and dies
And we search for a meaning
That’s covered up in lies
What kind of love
Comes by commanding
Where is wisdom
In such an understanding