W.A.K.O - Temple Of The Sick Degenerated Beast

Your own sistematic ways to define reality has taken you to hatred, fear, worship the sick degenerated beast;
The empire declines, no god will survive;
Enter the deep valley of death, shadows falling, melting upon your skull, you feel alive, I feel devine, you’ve found the eternal source reflecting on you, the face of horror and honour;
The instinct fall apart from the cross, right above, cold sacred passion; your god is dead, your god is dead;
Crucified by time, feeding a fatal desease in a painfull way to survive, bury your soul, there’s no place for the weak in my temple;
God, my eyes shall not burn for you forever and ever and ever;
The superior man falls out from his throne and i’m sitting on my own, get a gun, kill your enemy in one second, ignorant the world is yours, you kill, you create;
Your god is dead, from the cross, right above, slaughtered sheep;
Hey man you’re inside you’re creator, pray man you’re inside your own creation, it’s creeping out my own bone.