Из альбома: Omen
Brothers!
Trust not the kings of this world
trust not the snakes by the crowns on their heads
The scorching of septic flesh, the riddance of the yoke
they have lured upon us, scorching into our flesh
the melting of golden crown into ploughshares
Be not like the princes
rip not your heart of flesh out in search of a golden one
glory of this world is but vapour
All towers will tear and fall to the ground
Trust not the kings of this world
for ever to their shackles they us bind
look for not to their sliver for hope, that blinding glimmer
Let not our thoughts be bent to the ways of their greed
for ever like a rabid mongrel
greed bite the hands that feeds it Let justice be wreaked on the wolves of their thrones
Brothers!
Let us be rid of this curse
let us be different, let us inverse
The riches of this world are but vapour,
towers ready to fall
In the valley of death we are all beggars
Their castles will crumble, and the waves run them over
and grind them to sand
All towers must fall, throne rooms and gilded halls
facing the flood of an unending tide
All tyrants will crawl, like the snakes they were
stealing, making idols for their own destruction
false flames in the hearts of man
All flesh will rot, all hearts will stop
We will look for embers of humanity in the ashes
of the empires brought to justice