| Does praying bring a cure to your fear?
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| And did it improve your pitiful existence?
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| Don’t you feel you are making yourself a part of the weakest kind?
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| So you have chosen to be a slave, maybe stupid, maybe blind…
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| We deny the elite, leaders of the weak
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| No god we will fear, no cross we will lick
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| Creating our own rules, we follow no book
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| The truth is not written, so I draw it up with your blood
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| Wake up, or die by your own hand
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| Those who are born slaves have just one way to be saved
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| Burn it, the effigy of Christ
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| Deny this book that has filled your mind with lies
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| Anger let your heart breathe at last
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| Freedom in our kingdom you will taste
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| Burn it the effigy of Christ
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| Deny the holy book of lies
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| We have no masters, all sovereigns
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| And we spit on the illegitimate rules
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| We follow none but our own will
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| We have not chosen to live in fear of
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| The idol of weakness, a corpse on a cross
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| The bastard son of a chimerical god will never lead us
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| Eternally blinded by the odious masquerade
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| You dance on the music which leads you to your grave
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| Your allegiance has destroyed all your willpower
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| I see in you a caricature of existence, the tortures of freedom
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| Now you are nothing, just the puppet of an illusion
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| Slave of nothingness, worshipper of lies
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| When I see you celebrating the bereavement of reason
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| When I hear ypour pathetic sob which sound resounds in the night
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| When I smell your disgusting terror of death, terror of life
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| When I feel the powerful feebleness which oozes out of your being
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| Hate becomes my mistress, the autocrat of my heart
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| I dream of destruction, I wish your mutilation
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| Wake up, or die by your own hand
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| Those who are born slaves have just one way to be saved
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| Hate becomes my mistress, the autocrat of my heart
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| We prefer damnation, rather submission
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| So we choose blasphemy as our way of life
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| Slaves of weakness, we will never let in |