Testo di The Feast Divine

We provide the rich ones with joy And they offer pain as a gift to us While they stroll happily in their new cars Hundreds of people are dying in hospital files We plant - thay harvest We work - they earn We pray - they're heard Cause the church is on their side It's a burghers's association That feeds itself on our death And on our life of suffering Cursed be all of you Soon this triumph will escape from your hands For He is coming The fair horned god who was exiled from heaven There is no amount of richness That can subornate Him And He will feast Himself With the riches' flesh cause it's softer And He'll inebriate Himself With the riches' blood cause it's sweeter And His dessert will be The riches' souls eternally imprisoned into Him We plant - thay harvest We work - they earn We pray - they're heard The feast divine