A golden mask that hides the spirit of metamorphosis,

His empty and dark glance is without expression

Fluent black hair frames his freezing face,

The dark cloak covers the rest of his body without forms

Freezing air around him while golden rain falls down to strike

Greedy men and turns them into golden statues

Human collection kept in this golden paradise

In the great and ancient castle of the sadistic judge

 

The golden sin is the mark of their skin...

It's their condemnation, it's our light!

Oh spirit of justice! Kill this futile humanity!

Their sin is our wealth! Their costly suffering we can breathe!

 

Statues with wide eyes, it's their last glance! Mouth agape, it's their last scream!

The golden spirit sitting on his throne looks at their expressions

He hates and loves the men because he can't have a face

 

He can't change his expression and how he sentences

And lives his feelings through their faces to eternity

Nothing can change in the darkness of the death

Like their faces blocked in a golden prison!

 

The golden sin is the mark of their skin...

It's their condemnation, it's our light!

Oh spirit of justice! Kill this futile humanity!

Their sin is our wealth! Their costly suffering we can breathe!