Down in the valley of Mexico
Lay a city on a lake
A Kingdom, a stronghold made of gold
An impregnable fortress
Whose reign was endless
Who would enter that burning cauldron?
Who could shake the foundation of heaven?

But in order to maintain
Harmony and order
They must nourish their gods with
The most precious of water

An act of payment made by slaves
Slaves of War
One could only be so fortunate as to endure
The sweetness of death...
By the Obsidian knife

If the bloodshed were to cease,
It would bring famine war and disease
Cataclysmic chaos

No one is exempt from the cost
So in order to stave on that bleak day
They gave their children away
And then they would pray for

The sweetness of death...
By the Obsidian knife

Your still beating heart is
Ripped from your chest
And held to the sky
Your fleeting depart
A skip in your breath
Watch your heart melt as you die!

A Kingdom built on tributary pay
Now the vassals wish to rebuke
For the pain!

If the bloodshed were to cease
It would bring famine war and disease
Cataclysmic war and chaos

In order to stave on that bleak day
They gave their children away
And this they would pray

May his heart not falter in fear
May he not shed a tear
May he long for a flowery death
And the sweetness of darkness
Taste the din of battle
The roar of the crowd
The Obsidian Knife!