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The heavens break to cover us with shattered sky, |
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Grasping ground with crooked claws, hateful serpentine, |
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I'm winter see my heart split into a million shards, |
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There is no freedom where I'm bound to the sound of your demise, |
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Spites of fire march in rows, |
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Bloody warriors, mother fury still it grows! |
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And I die in depths of heartlessness, |
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Thor! His hammer hit the ground, |
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Destruction prey and fire dine! |
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Bloody warriors churn the clouds |
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Thunder thy unearthly cry, |
|
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh, |
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In blackest misery the lifeless lie in squander, |
|
Insane you sleep falling deeper into farthest fear, |
|
Now your disease has worked its way through your ****ing veins, |
|
Infernal suffering to the Nazarene, |
|
Thy rotten soul in darkness dwell in the mouth of hell, |
|
The worms are feeding on your lies within, you're drown in sin, |
|
Born from the blind, feeble mind of the greatest whore! |
|
Open shrines the children of the Nile! |
|
When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, |
|
When you're gone, mystic rites we'll carry on, |
|
To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, |
|
Tranquilized, smite your foes that they may die! |
|
In the sun you'll see the shape of things to come, |
|
When you're gone, mystic rites we'll carry on, |
|
To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, |
|
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh, |
|
In blackest misery the lifeless lie in squander, |
|
Insane you sleep falling deeper into farthest fear, |
|
Now your disease has worked its way through your ****ing veins, |
|
Infernal suffering to the Nazarene, |
|
Thy rotten soul in darkness dwell in the mouth of hell, |
|
The worms are feeding on your lies within, you're drown in sin, |
|
Born from the blind, feeble mind of the greatest whore! |
|
Open shrines the children of the Nile, |
|
When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, |
|
When you're gone, mystic rites we'll carry on, |
|
To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, |
|
Tranquilized, smite your foes that they may die! |
|
In the sun you'll see the shape of things to come, |
|
When you're gone, mystic rites we'll carry on, |
|
When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, |
|
[solo: Adam the First Sinner] |
