Grace year 14-89, black pest ravages the land
It was the realm of the sinister fanatics
Where the crowds pleasures
Non-believers were tortured and burned alive
In a fair's atmosphere, realm of the most horrible tyrant called upon to judge the good & evil
Torquemada, the great inquisitor
Expect from him no-compation
Don't solicitate his pardon, expect from him no mercy
Purified in flames you will be
Dungeons, where rats are rare
Even rocks sweat the pain in this purgatory
Temporary tomb, a prisoner is just awaiting his death
"Confess your crimes..." they ask me, but I'm innocent
Out of my cellar, I'm dragged to death
I see the executor, I send invocation to god
I beg you - catch my soul
I'm about to end this day in a horrible pain
Why live when you can die?
Why suffer when you can perish?
Anyway, it's just a strange illusion
Torquemada, the great inquisitor
Expect from him no-compation
Don't solicitate his pardon, expect from him no mercy
Purified in flames you will be...
Torquemada
