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The disease of god

You have the ability to rise
After a fall
We await impatiently
For a divine sundown

You're a slave
Of your own restrictions
Of Christian morals
Of the book of lies

You have the ability to rise
After a fall
We await impatiently
For a divine sundown

You're a slave
Of your own restrictions
Of Christian morals
Of the book of lies

Stop being so humble
Stop showing remorse
Cut it off
The hands that feed the blind
Can you move?
With those holy chains

The grey horizon
I paint it black
See through tomorrows
Spiteful eyes

The fury of the north men
(within) those who still believe
The holy slumber must end
(After) Thousand years of dormancy

:Et spiritus sancti: