I spit in the face of your god Words spawned from worthless flesh Empty words spoken by sheep Left to the winds they hear you not Your idols sculpted from stone, stone molded from sand, The sands of an endless desert But this is not about your god, This is about you, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS EXCUSE FOR FLESH You are cancer, the blackest of black I have come to bring suffering and pain You and your loved ones shall die Will be reunited in a collective grave Your soul enslaved...you will moan and beg Chained and whipped and dragged through thorns You will scream for death There will be no eulogy or effigy for you Brought to the foot of my throne Dried up, decomposing, frail and fragile. I laugh at your withering mortal flesh I peer down at a worthless shell of a man You wither at my feetTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
