| «I will give to drink without cost,
|
| From the spring of the water of life'
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| He who overcomes will inherit all this'''
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| And I will be his God'''and he will be my son'»
|
| When contrary winds blow across the sands
|
| Their murmurs can be easily swayed
|
| But when storms quicken one cannot placate
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| The howling of their murderous rages
|
| Winged seraphim hold love’s trembling hand
|
| Beside our waiting graves
|
| As war roars about out precious land
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| Seeking cause to subjugate
|
| Tonight in flames
|
| Tonight the world will fear our names
|
| Tonight in flames
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| Stay my feeble heart
|
| Our deaths will be the start
|
| Of something glorious and vain
|
| Tonight in flames
|
| There is no fanaticism as virile as faith
|
| To the blind his words are clear
|
| «Suffer not the infidel! |
| Suffer not the infidel!
|
| Assure your place in paradise here»
|
| Winged seraphim hold love’s trembling hand
|
| Beside her tiny grave
|
| I will avenge her, do or damned
|
| Her sacred mother did the same
|
| I went to see her dance one day
|
| In a play by a wailing wall
|
| Now she is gone
|
| But the song lives on Zealous and maniacal
|
| The Eastern sword must fall
|
| Tonight in flames
|
| Tonight the world will fear our names
|
| Tonight in flames
|
| Stay my feeble heart
|
| Our deaths will be the start
|
| Of something glorious and vain
|
| Tonight in flames |