Flesh For The Twelfth Omnipotent Testo

time spoils the prosperity decorated by your feces

ugly beggar, eat your own entrails
to survive, until the day of liberation

only by butchery your deadly sins will be cleansed
banshee cried to tell me the beginning of the last
supper

your beating heart for the new genuine king
your bone for the massacred race by your lie
your flesh for the land devastated with despair
your boiling blood for the dried up ocean

my number is twelve, the number of omnipotence
when the skies are dyed red, i will sublimate