Rising from the abyss of mind
Visions of world take form
Humanity has chosen its fate
To dig the soul in a grave
Their fate is written in blood
They gave themselves up to an abstract salvation
Material is the death that will come
On those ones
Who sold their own honour to become a god
There isn't any ideal of life in their own
Empty souls
There is no symptom of faith
Who can heal this currupted existence?
This world is not dead yet
'Cause no one will be able to dig it
This world doesen't need these dished brains
Lost in their deceptive progress
The more great you are, the more you are hated
In this world where everyone wants
To be worshipped like he was a god
Sick is the mind of who hopes
A radiant future for this wounded world
Forged in the fire of resplendent lies
There is no healing for this misery
But only extinciton shall let you free
Your soul can't ask anymore for mercy
Certain of what it's so much guilty
Nothing will survive here
Nor the hope to leave
Killed by this false morality
Material is the death that will come
For those ones who sold their own soul

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