The Father Of Serpents - Tainted Blood

Lasciate
Ogne
Speranza
Voi
Ch'intrate

Observe the ruin with your painted-on eyes
Ignoring below your world's demise
You hear the void chanting: My Martyr, My King
But that's a mere tune your dying mind sings!

Lasciate
Ogne
Speranza
Voi
Ch'intrate

Lasciate
Ogne
Speranza
Voi
Ch'intrate

You offered your hand as if I'm in confusion
Telling it's rotting flesh is an illusion
You tried to convince that of same blood we're painted
Yet never you felt just how much yours is tainted

In hands of creation you were made a freak
You carved to your likeness our whole race unique
All of us turned bolts in machine that you own
Behold now and worship this prison – your home