Death rises upon the fertilized fields The hand of the Maker destroys all your relics So when you come in fame, your people praise the stench Their fate collapses to elevate your name No way to the light! A treacherous punishment offends the heavens You once again accepted the path which you shouldnt stick The path which you shouldnt stick Cause it will lead you right to the death Your symbols turn to ashes their strength is worthlessness The waiting is over its time to begin Then you chose to follow serpents tongue Cold and venomous sting which pricked again Have you ever recognized the lies in your own words? In your own words Temples will hail the sacrifices You treat them like an idols, respecting them But were here to mutilate and to waste If the sons of our land continue to live like slaves Time can not change the course of every deed that you have done But weve given to you the last chance to improve yourself So praise the stench of your fallen idols They are delighted when you are despised You are the one who will never be prized Youre left alone, watching the burned horizon
shouldnt, idol, stick, stench, praise