There is a tempest
In the Temple of tonight

All of my values , morals
Are shaking cold from fright

There is a reason now
For all of my due fear

When red is the color
It has turned from water clear

There is red blood from the innocent
Caking on my fingers from their souls

They have been taken in their silence
Their blood has been dried by the cold

In the darkest of the winter
My seed willingly spills

Sickening sweet the cost
Of such a cheapening thrill

It crystalizes screaming
Without making a sound

Upon the snow white flakes
Of the frozen ground

You shuddered when caked
And cold ****** fingers

Stopped to caress your silken breast
Where upon they linger

I briefly touch with the back of my hand
Your perfect cheek that flowers this land

I turn to see a nor by norwestern star
It's my place , my home so far

Then into the blackness
where none of the living dare goes

Love takes a walk with me
Until it's suddlenly froze