Book Of Black Earth Christ Pathogen
The bastard of strains.
Infecting the hope for tomorrow.
No future without the disease.
No future. The living dead will follow.
The godspell of old. No future without the disease.
No future.
Chaos ensues, centuries lost in the flames all the years
gone to waste.
The pathogen leaves no tomorrow.
It leaves no escape. Chaos ensues, centuries lost in the
flames all the years gone to waste.
The pathogen leaves no tomorrow.
It leaves no escape.
The skies above yield the pearly gates.
Oh the pathogen, bastard of the strains.
