A golden mask that hides the spirit of

metamorphosis, his empty and dark glance is

without expression Fluent back hair frames his

freezing face; the dark cloak covers the rest of

his body without forms Freezing air around him

while golden rain falls down to strike greedy men

and turns them into golden statues Human

collection kept in this golden paradise in The

Great and ancient castle of the sadistic judge

The golden sin is the mark on their skin... It's

their condemnation, it's our light! Oh spirit of

Justice! Kill this futile humanity! Their sin is

our wealth! Their costly suffering we can breathe!

Statues with wide eyes, it's their last glance!

Mouth agape, it's their last scream! The golden

spirit on his throne looks at their expressions He

hates and loves the men because he can't have a

face

He can't change his expression and now he

sentences and lives his feelings through their

faces to eternity Nothing can change in the

darkness of the death, like their faces blocked in

a golden prison!

The golden sin is the mark on their skin... It's

their condemnation, it's our light! Oh spirit of

Justice! Kill this futile humanity! Their sin is

our wealth! Their costly suffering we can breathe!