Полный текст песни Behind the iron mask - Septic Flesh

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