where cold winds blow

where cold winds blow i laid to rest, i can not reach my rusty weapons, the blood and sword that guided my path, for they drowned in the sands of wisdom, i was, indeed, a king of the flesh, my blackened edges; still they were sharp, honoured by the carnal herds, but asketh thou: closed are the gates?, my mind cut my winged weapons, and teeth that was my pride, and from the forest all would hear: "wisdom opens the gate for the king", my weapons sighted - my tears they tasted, summon my warriors - to the land of desire, to the domain of hate - where cold winds blew, for lust for hell - we rode with the north wind, only i could accomplish a fucken self-deceit, there are only two paths - the mind or the sword, and the mind was open like the sights in a dream, but the sword was like a stone around my neck, i entered the soul of the snake, and slept with the armageddish whore, without my throne and my weapons;, where cold winds blow became my grave