No father! No son! No spirit of a priggish God
No father! No son! But mother of true-born blood

Now God... talk to me. My mind is to num to decode thee
Rotting God... talk to me. I am to late to bury thee

None of us was ever evil, nor am I
We're just victims of thy lie

So this is not the time of luciferian humanity
It is a world of (self)pity and hypocrisy

Lightlife has dwelled for aeons to reflect a world from above
Thus, your highlife, your affluence is the real perversion of love
Your truth where wildlife is forbidden
Your couth where all beauty is hidden

This life... just nothing...
My life... eke rotting...

Don't look at me, staring merely at one of your kind
I breathe in darkness and mock the colorblind
I hate you, left all cripples of wealth behind
Here is nothing but dying rebellion to find
Here is nothing but pale Satan...in mind

I am the enemy of any you and me, becoming slaves of a total society in prosperity and insanity of contrariety, at all non-variety of deity

By all sobriety... in me... no deity
No deity for thee

For no God... for all blood... for all good

For all good things are wild and free

Through blood and darkness | this antihuman cosmos reflects | in eternal mirrors of crucified abomination

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