Intent divers in a sea of lies,
dead bodies entangled by algae,
but the treasure chest is filled with depravity.
True prentice of the lies' craft we are,
outrank the novice of deceit,
We don't spare torment,
we don't fear moral judgement.

We are the snakes in a city of disgust.
With sharp teeth we are spitting our poison,
Belial is our father's name,
nursed by the breast of corruption.
Little spiders spinning their web of lies,
catching the weak and poor as flies.
Like moths to flame, it is like us to gain.

We are the end,
Sons of Belial,
The diabolic Lord of Lies.
We are the end,
Sons of Belial,
All humans raised in the depths of hell.

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