Storm of troubles

I need them to hear
I need them to feel
I need them to taste
I need them to embrace
the truth, the lie, their life

I escaped and run into the forest
the little wolf run next to me
all those ideals were forgotten
in the storm of troubles and distress

I changed my name
I changed myself
I changed my birth
I changed my life
I changed my death

An orgy of wrath and hate
a troubled sence of bitterness
and the taste of relief as this all ends
and it ends with my entrance
to the kingdom of my father
with a knife on my hand