В жестокой гонке машины мнутся как консервы: Кто будет лучшим, кто будет первым? Мы так торопимся, что шестьдесят уже не скорость, И значит чья-то смерть
I like the smell of a dead child Whose I cut the throat After torturing him a bit For nothing but pleasure Innocence bleeds As the feeble lamb lies
The quintessence Of mediocrity Is the monument Of your mortality Ashes you were, ashes you will be Whatever The name of your god Whenever The end of
Everyday eating excrements Kneeled your head in the bog Hard or soft no importance Taking pleasure in decadence Children and professional success You
Your senility reflects your dying religion Decades of reign among the perverted lambs Praising tolerance and forgiveness But concealing Holy Inquisition
Welcome to the last journey No luggages needed Come in, all! It's free We invite your family To join the herd of useless beings Irrelevant hope Blinding
Cold rains of blood Falling overnight The persecuted mass Is screaming of pain and despair People running everywhere The victory has begun Unholy thoughts
A new race for a new world Is the reason I fight for A spectral existence for despotic souls A life free from carnal corruption - No more futile beings
