Behemoth - The Sermon To The Hypocrites |
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The Sermon To The Hypocrites
Behemoth O, ye whose future is in other hands! Foul feeders! Slipped, are ye on you excrement? Parasites! Having the world lousy, Imagine ye are of significance to Heaven I, who enjoy my body [I] would rather pack with wolves than enter your pest Sensation... Nutrition... Mastication... Procreation...! This is your blind Know ye of nothing further than your own stench? Heaven is indifferent to your salvation or catastrophe The sword Honest was Sodom! Your theology is a slime In your world, where ignorance and deceit constitute felicity Everything ends miserably - besmirched with fratricidal blood. |
