[Music: N. Rudolfsson]

[Lyrics: Whiplasher Europa]



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