Tell me all the things you want
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I shall prove myself among the wise
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I have failed you
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Grant my wish I beg of thee
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For I have done all the deeds you have asked of me
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That whimpering wretched whore who birthed your adversary
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I retrieved her head and mutilated every last remain
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The blood of the innocent I have spread with no fucking remorse
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How dare you interfere my monumental wake
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Forever keep these words from my mouth
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I will become the father of lies
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Holiest of holy, I ensure your crucifixion
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Enlighten me O noble one of your mendacity
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Give me the clearest view of your so-called commonwealth
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We are your foes, annihilators of the sky
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Limb from limb
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The rites are carved into your forehead
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Limb from limb
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Engorged into your psyche
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Limb from limb
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I smell the decrepit stench of your demise
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Limb from limb
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Humanity will be destroyed
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My pro-creator I have warned thee of my prophecy
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Until that day, stand your fucking ground
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My pro-creator, stand your fucking ground
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Father Of Lies
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Whitechapel |