The old Masters :they were never wrong:
A terrible beauty is born.
Changing your fate as it was a single day,
Looking for the answer as it was a deadly cancer:
What are you, modern man?
You, self-righteous dead!
The new Masters : they are never wrong:
A beautiful terror is born.
Looking at the sky as it was the judgment day,
Changing your desires as the wind hits the night:
What are you, modern man?
You, judgmental dread!
The young Masters, they are always wrong:
Nothing good from this world will born.