It's a cold claw that grasps your sanguine little heart Clenches and drenches your lounges with blood It's a cold skull that holds your fragile little mind Soon crushed by the force that's moving up from behind We are all sacrificed When death drapes the altar Soul putrification Suffer the manifestation! Temple of Skin Feel how rusty blades cut within Temple of man Torn to bits by death's hand I will praise the grace of decay The grand celebration of the wicked I will haunt the Empyrean plains Grind pure plagues to perfection It's a trembling hand that holds time's dusty scepter Dictating a code that suffers the law of the grave It's an infected blade that cut your heart in two The temple of skin is left dead to dream of you. We are all sacrificed When death drapes the altar Soul putrification Suffer the manifestation! Temple of Skin Feel how rusty blades cut within Temple of man Torn to bits by death's hand Slaves of death yet masters of life Children of darkness but tyrants for light We are the unspoken name, the untrodden path A union benighted by left hand wrath