The king is dead

tenthousand apes
are praying to the liar...
they pray for the storm
and they pray for the fire...

they pray for the lust they
can never reach, because the liar
will passion never preach...

oh smell the lightning - your blackburned skin...
oh smell the lightning - your so-called sin...

thenthousand sad ones around golden cows...
they fade and they fly,
they die and they flow...
they try to reclaim the ancient
heavenly peak, but they had never a chance,
cause the human is so weak...

tenthousand fools in ships made of sand...
they try to escape from their
promised end, but no king will more rule,
because the king is dead and now they
believe they have the liar instead...
oh smell the lightning...