A god rotten human flesh is what I am
waiting to die crucificied for the hope of rats,
dont' cry for these wounds sdorning my arms
they've just appeared in me and not by self-
infliction
but by the power of a dead faith
divine era these marks, through them my
Lords has spoken
ignored words by many,
the symbols of Thy dogma
shining so glorious in my skin...

A god made of rotten human flesh I am,
as echoes from Eden placed a throne inside me,
His evil gene poisoned our blood...
Generation after generation of living ashes
transmitting a spiritual infection,
into a doomed carnal existence...

Black tears os pain and joy run from my eyes
but my servants will lick them from the ground
because a dead god I am
but no light shall revive my remains.

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