In The Loathsome Cradle Of Wicked Christians
The world is falling chased down by the dogs of fate and false arsony
It's Him who is dying because of weakness of the other
Plenty of the living are falling into your arms
In the loathsome cradle of wicked christians
Their filth during nights of the magi of ancient times
Greek wealth of the sabbath and the kingdom of women
Their liberation, the helping hand
In the hand of mother
Their mess is now walking in their hands
Their diseases in their chests and hands
Their knowledge so holy
Their diseases into their powerless people
So are their land and their country
Our illness, impotence of nations
Now you can look for cry
Now you can fly further
And bless your land for not dying all
Now you can hope in their destruction
So hope
The world is falling chased down by the dogs of fate and false arsony
It's Him who is dying because of weakness of the other
Plenty of the living are falling into your arms
In the loathsome cradle of wicked christians
