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Death Yells In TriumphThis soil is fed by the blood of all feeble,These walls are built by the milk white skulls of zealots, Damned is the light of the virtuous ones Poisoned is the light that radiates in here I'm choking by this nobility and kindness, I'm twisting in despair by this vile morality Provide us with some truth to crush the putrid tentacles Of holiness It's the coldness and bitter wrath that are freezing our blood These blood drencing leeches Always breed and procreate Like the larvae that fed on the anointed carcass of their father Our cross is decorated by their limbs A glorious monument, a tragic fall Of a laughable, twisted doctrine I am intoxicated by the liquids of their bodies, As I yell and pierce the eardrums of the bastard Serpahic leeches |