| By my doing you shall know me. |
| by fruits of my creation, by my anger
|
| With traitorous whisper I invite the centipede to your heart
|
| I burn your senses, set consciousness ablaze. |
| I distort the reality
|
| I twist your hand so it may pierce your body with the dagger of fear
|
| break the personalities, weaken the will
|
| And stomp the soul with abhorrence.
|
| I cut your legs and stab you in the back
|
| In the end, you will be found guilty.
|
| You have never dreamt of my love, to me. |
| to yourself
|
| Embracing the two-faced snake. |
| venomous kisses
|
| Treacherous promises, death for life
|
| All or this, hall you receive, come hell and high water
|
| I should gift you down your throat.
|
| Choking on your life, you shall praise my name — El Shaddai
|
| Plucking the eyes of your consciousness
|
| Gutting your id. |
| rejecting yourself
|
| You are the chosen one. |
| the messiah of your fate
|
| The lamb upon the altar of my airs and graces.
|
| For every thought running from its despair
|
| I shall pierce your foot with a thousand of needles.
|
| And every time you look away, I visit your children
|
| As the knout dressed in black
|
| «Come forth my child. |
| accept the Word of the Lord»
|
| And every time you seek comfort.
|
| I am there for you, yet you’ll receive nothing but bitterness
|
| I am not your father. |
| you’ve never been worthy
|
| You are no better than dirt and the dust. |
| the maggot. |
| I loathe you
|
| A cattle fit for slaughter. |
| on the halter of superstition
|
| Meager in your pursuits. |
| blind for tomorrow
|
| The winds of my ego have stormed through the forest of man’s desires
|
| Pulling out the roots of conscience
|
| I have found my place in hearts and minds of those seeking truth
|
| Malignant tumor. |
| Virus the Creator. |
| the ageless plague
|
| My appetite insatiate
|
| I devour the prayers with the thousands of mouths
|
| Then I digest and defecate
|
| I harvest my worship with hands folded in prayer… |