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Occult Machinery

Technology of a different kind.
Theology of a new and darker kind.
To bend reality towards the shape of my will and see the dawn of a new era of justice.
As far as our enemy's lack of human rights, through our cult we'll bring the war to their eyes.
My sword will sing the angel's departure from life.
Brick by skull we'll build the church of new light.
Rise.
Rise.
Rise Rise.
Forbidden alchemy combined with means to rend the flesh, to tear to pieces, feed to me what's left.
The choir of the dead will sing the song of broken bones.
Summon the watcher, return them to death.
The final resting place there'll be no time to rest at all.
Serve the royalty, remember your gods.
Serve the royalty, remember your gods.
See the watcher see how he rise.
See the prophet see how he dies.

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