Text:
In Flames Jester Race

[Instrumental]

Staring there, leaning to the city moon Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms The black clad voyeur in his black clad masque In the serpentine

Tried of dull ages, I walk the same ground Collecting the tragedies still Hollow ambitions in a hollow mind Carried my cross to the hill And how I lust

[instrumental]

man's banquet of mould ridden bread and black, poisoned wine And we go..our steps so silent And we go..our blooded trace; The Jester Race Calling our

man's banquet of mould ridden bread and black, poisoned wine And we go..our steps so silent And we go..our blooded trace; The Jester Race Calling our

: Stood there leaning to the city moon, casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms the black-clad voyeur in his black-clad masque in the serpentine

the Black-Ash Inheritance, the semen feed of gods and masters The worms still in me, still a part of me, racing out from leaking rooms, swoop from broken

the power-myth that failed Neanderthal hunger for the flesh of war so frail So weak, so hollow-minded the primat flock responds the jester race submits