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Sharpening the edge of the traitors knife

Lingering venenation

Unhealthy thoughts of the flesh delivers

Symptoms of a broken mind

For the falling, for the destruction

We kneel down for the obese scum

And in the final round we murder

Our mothers, daughters, fathers and sons

(And we)

Failing to recognize the insane

(And we)

Marching through the lowest life

(And we)

Failing to accuse the malevolent

Trials of the innocents

Set your foot, like it never thunders

The creator rests, the machine is running,

Thus, blinding mist and eerie noise

Tortures the sons of men

Those with anger sober up, while the lustful dancing mad

Witness how loud clapping and harsh lights makes the calm go wild

It’s beneath our deepest understanding,

That doom is always nigh.