Coming down is the temple of the mage.
The candles on the walls fall down and sets my rage again.
So if you see everything burn,
Just leave me here torn.
For I don't have the strength left
To put out the embers just born.
And if I am to die by fire,
Then that would just be my fate.
I was promised to die by water,
But that promise came too late.

Again the philosopher is stoned.
He took some pity from the old tome.
Rolled it up and burned it with his soul.
That's how the story always goes!
He disbelieves the words of saints,
The more his own heart breaks.
He watches cities crumble and break.
There's just no more heaven for pity's sake. 
And once again I didn't know
That so many souls could ever let go.

Churches are collapsing here and there.
Fallen priest lie everywhere,
And not just in the air.
So when absolution breaks,
Am I the only one made of haste?
Was it apart of that stone foundation I lay
That support this dantesque hell I've made?
And I feel the hot chains
Just like the blood in my veins.
So I pull them out one by one,
So all of hell can see me come undone!

How I wish I could start again, 
And flourish in a light that would never end. 
But that requires the powers of gods, 
That simply doesn't exist. 
And this is mostly my shame. 
For the most part you're not the one to blame. 
It was always me. 
It took some time for me to see. 
Because these believers have died inside,
To further hide what we all have to find.