With each descending step I hear the beat
of sacrificial chants of those who know.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
The pungent smell is damp and bittersweet.
Within these halls the music seems to flow,
with each descending step I hear the beat.
The altar room is secret and discrete,
with eerie chants that truly seem to grow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
My wrists are bound, a feeling of defeat,
a severed heart to feed the gods libido.
With each descending step I hear the beat.
My time has come this act will not repeat,
I hear the chants and see the lamps aglow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
My heart becomes the sacrificial meat
as now my life approaches its crescendo.
With each descending step I hear the beat,
the stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
Gold trophy winner
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