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No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds

No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds

Defile

All the saint you know

Denial

Is your only role

I commence the invocation

Of the old gods

Desecration

Another soul rots

Vile snake

Encrust your soul in dirt

Rend and take

And lie and steal and hurt

You have soiled

The temple of your soul

You are spoiled

And empty like a hole

Thine path ends in a place

Where deeds meet the reasons

Where the time does not pass

Where you plead your decisions

A thousand debens of filth in your heart

Weigh more than the feather of Malat

Your mask is too weak to face the gods

The book of the dead will not erase your frauds

No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds

No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds

Twist your limbs

Wriggle like an eel

Face your sins

All is come revealed

Bane of the weak

Feed on dying prey

Let your id rise

Embrace the dismay

Only gods can read the story

Which you sought to hide and raze

Your deceptive gown will provide you

With no safe shelter from their gaze

A thousand debens of filth in your heart

Weigh more than the feather of Malat

Your mask is too weak to face the gods

The book of the dead will not erase your frauds

No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds

No book of the dead will cleanse you of your frauds