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No, I will not rise my hands up

No, I will not fall on my knees

No, you will not find a humility in me

No, I will not bow my eyes before you

I look on your face with scorn

And body full of furrows and wounds inflicted by sin

This pity image in golden icons

Is not worth of divine insignia

No, I will not sing psalms

No, you will not hear my prayers

No, I will not make the sign of the cross

No, I will not make any tribute

You do not deserve to sublime altars

Which are posed to your face

How pity is your mercy

In the world full of sin

Yes, I refuse all means of grace

Yes, I liberate my instincts

Yes, I am believer in freedom

Yes, I follow the shiny pentagram