Fill your stinking pits with slaves and cowards! The gutted corpses of thy disgraced Spare them flames so they may rot! And stir your ranks to march Their coins for Charon offer respite to the Philistines Those who have vowed to claim the mark of Kenite And reap! Reap the flogging owed to those steeped in their sins Shedu have writhed in disgrace Moloch king, besmeared with blood, slaying the martyrs Infernal voices tell one thousand tales of the cursed, defiled chalice A judgment of their doom, exalting their violent nature Faced in the hour of need Where does your feeble faith turn? Pray to the spiteful god above, or infernal Hell Through treacherous whimsy, through venal mechanics... An inevitability Of all things to be steeped in rotten earth The soul awakens to the desires of thy kings overlord To dig in Maleboge The scourge that fathers the creation of saints, The tornhusk souls rended by Cerberus The wrenching cries of the Nephilim, Shouting the son of mans blasphemies Swallowed into the swirling eye from which lightning finds birth I seed a great womb of storms Cyclones derived from the spiraling horns of the goat I despoil and grind thy shrines asunder Icons drown beneath malicious waves
steeped, thy, reap, kenite, tornhusk