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The thorncrowned homosexual

King of weak Jewish scum

Crucified feeble son of god is dead and buried

He will not return to his people

I laugh on the yard of blazing synagogue

Smell of Jews, stench of burning flesh I can smell

Screams from the flames I hear

Oh what pleasure!

Fight, fight, purifying fight

With the will to power

Night, night, vicious night

Of Aryan Evil

With the might of white hands’ power

I destroy you

If you are not part of racial elite