(lyrics by Pavel Wasilewski)
"For the high point their theology consists of these two things:
hissing at demons and sketching the cross on their foreheads."
FLAVIUS CLAUDIUS JULIANUS (332-363)
ROMAN CAESAR (JULIAN THE APOSTATE) (361-363)
"What are the fruits of Christianity? Bigotry, superstition and
persecution."
JAMES MADISON (1751-1836)
US FOURTH PRESIDENT (1809-1917)
Foetus god descents in silence
a b****** deity for us to believe
blasphemy of gen collage
in backward sombre involution
Foetus abortion of the Divine
latent rape of a wet, lewd womb
man-made myth to blunt the mind
the vilest offence for five senses
Undone miracles never to come
invalid rise of slave thought
the only light its dawn can shed
is from burnt wisdom and shimmering greed
Thine is not the Kingdom
no trace of strenght I see
no Mercy to expect
a seal of claws upon your lips
As pure Wit turns into effusions
we, snakes of Truth, vex and devour
gods manifested in twisted images
astrally hunted in shadow and soul
Sweet holy shiftless godsend meat
I bet you listen to this psalm of me
Sweet holy shiftless godsend meat
I bet you listen to this psalm of me
little by little, one by one
the thorns become the real crown
Thine is not the Kingdom
no trace of strenght I see
no Mercy to expect
a seal of claws upon your lips
"For the high point their theology consists of these two things:
hissing at demons and sketching the cross on their foreheads."
FLAVIUS CLAUDIUS JULIANUS (332-363)
ROMAN CAESAR (JULIAN THE APOSTATE) (361-363)
"What are the fruits of Christianity? Bigotry, superstition and
persecution."
JAMES MADISON (1751-1836)
US FOURTH PRESIDENT (1809-1917)
Foetus god descents in silence
a b****** deity for us to believe
blasphemy of gen collage
in backward sombre involution
Foetus abortion of the Divine
latent rape of a wet, lewd womb
man-made myth to blunt the mind
the vilest offence for five senses
Undone miracles never to come
invalid rise of slave thought
the only light its dawn can shed
is from burnt wisdom and shimmering greed
Thine is not the Kingdom
no trace of strenght I see
no Mercy to expect
a seal of claws upon your lips
As pure Wit turns into effusions
we, snakes of Truth, vex and devour
gods manifested in twisted images
astrally hunted in shadow and soul
Sweet holy shiftless godsend meat
I bet you listen to this psalm of me
Sweet holy shiftless godsend meat
I bet you listen to this psalm of me
little by little, one by one
the thorns become the real crown
Thine is not the Kingdom
no trace of strenght I see
no Mercy to expect
a seal of claws upon your lips