Before the storm, before the day of the last death Apollyon assembled his lords to stand against you For all their wisdom, do they not know? Their kingdoms are torn, shorn for the slaughter
Under whose reign for centuries past, the upright have obtained For virtue, violence, for mercy, scorn Their cry goes up: how long?
How long will you wait to avenge us? Our blood cries from the ground
Before you strike, before you darken the sky Paint your blood on my door to abate the angels of death For the dawning night will dub saddle bright When the Prince of Light removes his lampstand
From those who in his name corrupted and enslaved the weak Exchanging for virtue, violence for mercy, scorn To them he will say, I have never known your names
Our blood cries out, how long? Until you resheath your sword in your foe’s spinal cord Rip the flesh from the bone, lift the truth from the lies Until your archers draw and your cataphracts charge And your vengeance is revealed before your enemies’ eyesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
