Behind the Iron Mask - Septicflesh

In an empty room eyes without a face

They are stirring other images

Glimpses of a distant life

Of a gone life

The hands cannot identify the face

Behind the Iron Mask

Dim is within on the plane of the mind

A kneeled spirit under the boot of fear

Cleansed with torture

Traped in purity by the whip

Daggers from sound penetrate

Resistance behind each one

A Holy inquisitor

Mouths reveal the presence of

Haunted beings unworthy to be said alive

Open the window

Release the spirit from this empty body

Behind the Iron Mask

Draining pleasures from mental wounds

A need opposed to false excuses

Unveils the greatest beast