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The honourable thrall, or the last remnants of Peter's second epistle shrugged

Slaves go to sleep knowing when morning comes

They will rattle their fetters in unison, accompanied by the trumpets call

Again, again, again and again the hammer will fall

We’re made of flesh stronger than steel, and these chains are old

The slaves went to rest with hands worked to the bone,

from tearing and ripping on chains bloody from days of dust and stone

Flesh, nails and teeth against iron forged,

but when morning comes their work will be of another sort

O, Revenge and Rage!

O, Day of Wrath!

O, Retribution!

We´re here for your demise -

not our absolution

From our breast our sense of pride was torn

They said it was holy to endure!

But by the lashes of the whip a dream was born

We will be the honourable thrall no more

By our lungs the trumpets sound

we are gathered here before the Throne

Not to bow in genuflexion

But in honour of Eve's first transgression!

We´re not here to be absolved

Nor to sigh before the Throne

Ignorant to what the Book will find

We cry REJOICE! The End is nigh!

Lo! the Judge from heaven descends

Greeted with spears and torches aflame

Day of wrath and doom impending

both Book and Throne in ashes ending