Thy kingdom come has come undone On the cross your only son For the hills the peasants run The trap is set, the web is spun Like moth to a flame I succumb to temptation I take it in vein Decayed... withered away Our golden years Spent tilling our graves The seven seals, eyes of the dead Under the veil, inside your head The pale horse, the necrophage Red skies, the black plague Like moth to a flame I succumb to temptation I take it in vein Decayed... withered away Our golden years Spent tilling our graves Our house is condemned Our lives are condemned, Our lives are condemned Our lives are condemned Our lives are condemned Like moth to a flame I succumb to temptation I take it in vein Decayed... withered away Our golden years Spent tilling our graves I hear you screaming my name Our golden years Wasted and profane Atrophied, left to decay Our lives are condemned Our lives are condemned Our lives are condemned Our lives are condemned