Texty: Vassago. Godforsaken.
[Music; Pepa]
[Lyrics;Turner]
A dark cloud is rising on the horizon, the skies are glowing in fiery red,
The North and the South, East and West, have sworn allegiance to the armies
Of Death
Burning rivers, dried-up oceans, desert lakes, and wasted plains
Crumbling hills, tumbling mountains, charcoal trees, columns inflamed
We stand and look at the works of Hell
Boastful and proud, we've performed them well!
Take
One last look at the earth, god
While it still stands as the realm that you claimed
Satan's armies are charging
And when we are through, it will never be the same
Holocaust winds devastating the churches, believers buried under sacred stone
The mild and the meek, the weak and the feeble, exterminated one by one
Nuns violated by ghoulish hordes, monks castrated with razor-sharp swords
Graves re-opening and taking in the whole bastard brood of the Nazarene
We look about, not one soul anymore
Willing to hail the son of the whore!
Take
One last glance at your herds, god
While they still look upon you and sheepishly pray
A memory of brainless devotion
Will be all you are left with, we will sweep them away
[Lyrics;Turner]
A dark cloud is rising on the horizon, the skies are glowing in fiery red,
The North and the South, East and West, have sworn allegiance to the armies
Of Death
Burning rivers, dried-up oceans, desert lakes, and wasted plains
Crumbling hills, tumbling mountains, charcoal trees, columns inflamed
We stand and look at the works of Hell
Boastful and proud, we've performed them well!
Take
One last look at the earth, god
While it still stands as the realm that you claimed
Satan's armies are charging
And when we are through, it will never be the same
Holocaust winds devastating the churches, believers buried under sacred stone
The mild and the meek, the weak and the feeble, exterminated one by one
Nuns violated by ghoulish hordes, monks castrated with razor-sharp swords
Graves re-opening and taking in the whole bastard brood of the Nazarene
We look about, not one soul anymore
Willing to hail the son of the whore!
Take
One last glance at your herds, god
While they still look upon you and sheepishly pray
A memory of brainless devotion
Will be all you are left with, we will sweep them away
Vassago
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