(I AM, I AM, I AM, IAM...)

Lightning strikes

Through my fingertips

Static shocks

From the telephone

Hair that stands

On its very own

Snow that falls

From her silver lips

If i can't

Be yours

Then you might as well rip my eyes out

Underneath

The floors

The guillotine slowly cries out

For the coming of the ice queen

The cradle in her eyes

Remover of the fear

When everybody dies

The holder of the crystal

The wisdom of the sage

Thе middle of the blizzard

The sеtters of the stage

The letters on the page

Thistleblooms

From your fingertips

Ginger snaps

With a butcher knife

Lips so red

Like the bloody drips

From your teeth

At the end of life

Chemicals

Coursing through my veins

Little words

Looping in our brains

Can't be sure

'cause i can't be sure

Can't be sure

'cause my soul's not pure

Like the soul inside the ice queen

The cradle in her eyes

Remover of the fear

When everybody dies

The holder of the crystal

The wisdom of the sage

The knowledge of the prophet

The setters of the stage

The letters on the page