Seven keys to the art of eternal might.
And annihilate their space of moral fights.
They belong to the age of slavery.
As we watch this race of insanity.

The sticks will forever turn and stay.
A book based on lies from ancient drunks.
Slipping towards mankind's thought and mind;
Mary`s clitoris formed around the edge of my knife.

Tearful eyes rolled in sand, nailed on spikes.
You may never jump through bricks of reality.
Turning my head, and a blink with my eye;
Mary`s cunt were blown across the earth.

Will they ever turn?
Can they ever explain it?
Their source of religion will die out.
And the blind fools will then gladly follow.
Intoxicated by the grey smoke
of the burning holy bible.
And rubbing the crucifix with
the genitals of the holy sluts.

I`m amazed by this maze and the taste of my grace.
As the days reaches space I will face all my preys.
I have raised this race to replace your waste.
And erase all trace of haze and disgrace.

Painting the church in the blood of the beast,
while spitting on the portrait of Christ.
Bleeding their eyes out after hours of reading.
Licking in their cell like a kind of human hell.
In a wild dream I saw fire on their wings,
blood in their face and Jerusalem in flames,
hammer smashed organs of sexual lust.
All these morbid thoughts which soon will be revealed.
The keys in my hand, a joyful breeze in my heart.
Forever burn, forever turn, forever be one with your self.
The cards has been laid since the drunks played their joke.
But they are not here to stay, and they fear the next step.

The slaughter is near,
Soon tortured in their lair.
Explosions will tear,
Abysses and spheres.
We can now smell their fear,
And burnt skin and hair.
Left is only one stair,
And our mission is clear.

Now, holy whore;
Soon your blood will be poured.
Grotesque and violent rancour,
Let's go to war.

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