These paragons of pure love Of sacrificial eucharistia Who devors mouth wide open Their deviant instinct
Believers, believers Harmful cockroaches Gravediggers, who delight To feast world's illness
Birds of ill omen Vultures angels Still wearing their clothes Of slayer
Get their hands dirty for the soul's salvation
They sprinkle this smell of mass graves As they sprinkle holy water In the name of truth God is angry And the devil doesn't think less
Impious Unholy
I am, the deep source who soil and rape Spitting on all you bless and you think I am The metastasis ready to deliver Praise and profane Praise and profane
