I bedew their bare claptrap wi' lays of stout-worthy words Thy writ o' fake fables lies in non-subtle souls I mizzle thy mind grass like it does dense hoarfrost Neither boisterous nor heavy, I heed the call, I'm in control In control
You idolize "holy" images, thy abderian affectation Corpse that can't end up to dust points to miracle or malison? O sire their sin erupts in acquiescent autolatry High and aloof here-words, odes to themselves, but I'm in control In control
Magniloquent mages Mobbed in malebolge Nincompoop imposters Heedless of your hee-haw
Hafed-men of hypocrisy grand their absolution Clergymen of a chthonic choir I will not join my voice unto warbling volition I'll asperge their altar wi' hallowed fire
Mockers of truth act as acherontic mobsters Our dew will weep their fall tonight Metallic fury shall sweep these mud-lark prophets Onto a pit of their unrightTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
