To the Marionette was sold a dream so true

A daring caress through the dragon's brew.

Fire and brimstone were the heart's maisonette...

You think you have seen hell, you hath seen nothing yet.

Where was this dream, what journey could it find

On a flagrant tale through matter and mind?

Love and hate, life and fate, a mirage and oasis await,

What is real and what is fake, this is true but merely a mind's illustrate.

Porcelain figures all dressed in a line of fashion
too eager to surrender the soul of the angel and passion.
Through a million choices, there can be only one choice.
This is the graveyard, now silently scream out in the voice...

The voice of the loved, and the voice of the damned
The voice of the forsaken, and the voice of the one who held your hand
This is a play, played by actors on strings, and in light of everything
does it really matter? For when the final bell rings, this is the end by the will of the king.

Damned in death, through the light of a life forlorn
The salesman corrupted a soul of purity with scorn
and in the struggle the dead man's hand will reign
The war will consume the soul, and form an ignorant feign.

Oh friend of mine, fate what have you done?
In your arrogance you forget their can be only one!
This reign of terror will live on in infamy!
You are the devil, and hate hath been your symphony!

So, parallel the world through thick and thin in this game.
I will choose my voice, and I will call out a name!
The name of a devil who has corrupted the acclaimed!
This is what I have to live with, but I know the truth, and they will know the same...

She was your figure, and this was your dream...
She was sold a lifeless soul by your will it seems...
So caress yourself in this prison, live fancy in your hell
For by the rise of dawn, and with some hope they will tell...

The tale of the truth, the lackluster faith, by your design and illustrate
How a god fell from heaven, to forsake and to rape...
To spread wraith upon the world, starting with the marionette...
They will tell the tale of how he will be stopped, how fate will get him yet.

Alas in the closing act, fate may be buried in the graveyard, hope and voice and all.
Drenched in the blood of the victims fallen, wretched comes this debauchery and awe.
But, a hero must rise to reach up and claim this prize, he must not be late
You might have buried me you demon, but I am eternal with hope, my name is fate.

And today we will stand across from each other, a line in the sand...
Today we will determine the rule of this land.
Today, mark my words, for I will be damned
If I will let you, hold her hand...