Cain کے بول

When I fell into the deepest gloom You've stabbed me in the back and imposed on me Cain killed his brother out of spite You've abused me and drained my life A scorching Sun arose and burned your remains The grumble of your greed turned to ash Forever more You wear the stigma of spite To remind you of your treachery Dystopia is a memorial To the ones that share your greed Such was the wicked murd'rer Cain And such by nature still are we Until by grace we're born again Malicious, blind and proud, as he. The saints, in every age and place Have found this history fulfilled The numbers all our thoughts surpass Of Abels, whom the Cains have killed!