Massacres to cleanse my path
of nauseating persons
claiming for the bridled messiah
like filthy pigs congregating
around defeated abortios.
War is the joy of men,
suicide the entire hope of believers.

The demise is only beginning.
I am silent but unquiet
waiting the day to hear thy screams,
the performance of a tragic comedy!

World without end!
Your children's despondency
is reflected in their behaviour
and helpless pleads.
Your inspiring decline is lighten up
by the eloquent fire of wickedness.

All hail a cursed doom
for which I am the leader.
I have bulit the altar
to the sacrifice of humankind.

Blood is as preciuis as a bullet.
One arouses the delights of existing,
the other brings the splendour of death.
And I am the aeon of nothingness.

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