اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Christ with the decons and the chosen warriors
Pick me to hold the golden torches
I've bled in vein for your love
I've neverfelt the feeling of your touch
My son, your choice is free
So choose your path and enlighten the darkness
Mary's eyes begin to bleed
So bow down and feel the heat
Lights out, the venom of sin
The Devil's back and he's at it again
For twelve nights, three days
Your mother fucking grave
I held your hand and for the wicked, we pray
We Pray
Your fucking sinergy, is taking over me
Down on a bended knee
That what you want to see?
I'm not a fucking weak, quit making fun of me
I'll come with the wicked son and he'll make you bleed
So take lightly the things we say
I'm not a prophet just out here to pray
Knife wounds, wife wombs
Little children thoughts on the faces of tombs
Dead bofies of soliders, not warriors
Litter the Earth of their bones and the curses
Past presents the future now
Where will you be when you're looking back down?
So what you said you're coming after me
I keep on drowning at your apathy
Life is so unfair to me
Why is life unfair to me?
