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Pounding upon his zealots with colossal fists
We have learnt to hail without making a face,
Such is our strength, the only virtue that exists,
Beyond the farce of Creation
That so many yet embrace

What God hides with aplenty storms of curses,
That daily rise, while enthralling lies he nurses,
To see your strife be mocked and spit on by the like
Of many scums, who fancy your head on a spike

With splendor our heart is filled
His burning essence conceals
A scent of pure freedom rebuilt

With delight,
We breathe this fragrance every night
Wherein Twilight,
Reveal the secrets of your might

What God does with violent whirlwinds of curses,
That daily rise, while alluring lies he nurses,
To see your plight be mocked and spit on by the like
Of many scums, who fancy your head on a spike

Amongst the shades, a grave-like discontent,
His light flickers and loosens the ties
Shining above in dissonant lines
No deed of mine and no desire
It does not chain nor blind but inspire
It is the source of our extolment

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