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Scourge of the eldest provoking with doubt
Sinners are marching, conscience without,
Whispers in the dark from a wretched sleepless god

Fear and depression is all they’ve got,
In a birth of retrogression that is almost complete
With blood on our tombs we rot in greed

Bathing our souls in the womb of misbelief
Rejection from the reflection of truth

Fawning on purgation of a life never seen,
Drops of intoxication nail me down in sin,
Ages of wonder lead me in a dark abyss
An unsolved question marks me and leaves me deceived
When false gods ascend from our decomposition,
An old saga summons a brand new religion

With no regrets I reject this blind future,
It seems this time there is nothing left to mourn

Whispers inside me thriving an old fear,
Forgotten in time and now appeared
To separate the god from the mortal
To indicate an era of purgation
To indicate an era of fawning

Now the scission of souls recreates
A severed inception of a false divide
Now the scission of souls ignites the awakening
Of the sickest incarnation

With no regrets I reject this blind future,
It seems this time there is nothing left to mourn

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