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As one rope loosens, another then tightens |
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far too long we've been strangled and tied |
|
this sick circle of shame must now finally break |
|
so that honour may again walk by our side |
|
Roamers of the path of many paths |
|
now the hour has come for us to act |
|
with inhuman hatred and intensity |
|
to ram down the monoliths of fallacy |
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At the mass grave of religions man's triumphant age begins |
|
the heartblood of these tyrants will wash us clean of sin |
|
we'll stand among the victors through this colossal war |
|
the sight of moving mountains is what we are here for |
|
The ethics and laws that we deeply abhor |
|
have left mere rust and rot in their wake |
|
so each such child of the holiest of lies |
|
together with their fathers shall be slain |
|
The storm of rebellion will never calm down |
|
in the raging hearts of the truly devout |
|
so hold not a moment more thy fury back |
|
for swords are made to cut and daggers to stab |
|
At the mass grave of religions man's triumphant age begins |
|
the heartblood of these tyrants will wash us clean of sin |
|
we'll stand among the victors through this colossal war |
|
the sight of moving mountains is what we are here for |
|
Enthralling is the scent of burning shrines |
|
and the sound of crumbling hierarchies |
|
as after this disgraceful time |
|
the true nature in us can once again breathe |
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May lips wet with blood to the world now proclaim: |
|
at last the Beast if free and, verily, so shall remain! |
|
In the chanting winds of this glorious black night |
|
we hold the scalps of the crushed rulers high |
|
without swaying a hammer or piling any stones |
|
where once their towers stood we raise our own |
|
At the mass grave of religions man's triumphant age begins |
|
the heartblood of these tyrants will wash us clean of sin |
|
we'll stand among the victors through this colossal war |
|
the sight of moving mountains is what we are here for |
