Maleficentia Sovereign
Does praying bring a cure to your fear?
And did it improve your pitiful existence?
Don't you feel you are making yourself a part of the weakest kind?
So you have chosen to be a slave, maybe stupid, maybe blind...
We deny the elite, leaders of the weak
No god we will fear, no cross we will lick
Creating our own rules, we follow no book
The truth is not written, so I draw it up with your blood.
Wake up, or die by your own hand
Those who are born slaves have just one way to be saved
Burn it, the effigy of Christ
Deny this book that has filled your mind with lies
Anger let your heart breathe at last
Freedom in our kingdom you will taste
Burn it the effigy of Christ
Deny the holy book of lies.
We have no masters, all sovereigns
And we spit on the illegitimate rules
We follow none but our own will
We have not chosen to live in fear of
The idol of weakness, a corpse on a cross
The bastard son of a chimerical god will never lead us
Eternally blinded by the odious masquerade
You dance on the music which leads you to your grave.
Your allegiance has destroyed all your willpower
I see in you a caricature of existence, the tortures of freedom
Now you are nothing, just the puppet of an illusion
Slave of nothingness, worshipper of lies.
When I see you celebrating the bereavement of reason
When I hear ypour pathetic sob which sound resounds in the night
When I smell your disgusting terror of death, terror of life
When I feel the powerful feebleness which oozes out of your being.
Hate becomes my mistress, the autocrat of my heart
I dream of destruction, I wish your mutilation
Wake up, or die by your own hand
Those who are born slaves have just one way to be saved
Hate becomes my mistress, the autocrat of my heart
We prefer damnation, rather submission
So we choose blasphemy as our way of life
Slaves of weakness, we will never let in.
