No, I will not rise my hands up
No, I will not fall on my knees
No, you will not find a humility in me
No, I will not bow my eyes before you

I look on your face with scorn
And body full of furrows and wounds inflicted by sin
This pity image in golden icons
Is not worth of divine insignia

No, I will not sing psalms
No, you will not hear my prayers
No, I will not make the sign of the cross
No, I will not make any tribute

You do not deserve to sublime altars
Which are posed to your face
How pity is your mercy
In the world full of sin

Yes, I refuse all means of grace
Yes, I liberate my instincts
Yes, I am believer in freedom
Yes, I follow the shiny pentagram

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