My Skin Is Cold — Satyricon

My skin is cold and the birds fly free Over my head, where winter grows A heathens call, stand up or fall This world is yours, for you to rule

This, the blood of sin Flows freely This unstoppable force In the naked flesh My skin is cold – your skin is cold

Black metal rock and a scent of leather And bloodstained gold With rain and wind come times of change, and dreams come true I go with you, on the path we make

This, the blood of sin Flows freely This, unstoppable force In the naked flesh My skin is cold – your skin is cold

Snow covered mountain I gaze in awe Wondering who and what was here before I made my mark on that sacred soil This phoenix rose from a pit of pain

This, the blood of sin Flows freely This, unstoppable force In the naked flesh My skin is cold – your skin is cold

One nations man carrying the weight, of a peoples disgrace This is the turnaround! Driven by birthright and godsent will The time has come for you to rule

This, the blood of sin Flows freely This, unstoppable force In the naked flesh My skin is cold – your skin is cold