I am the red in the sick bloodshot eyes
I wrap the flesh in black plastic suites
The gods and the shields speak no lies

My warganism is tied on a cold empty route.

Hands are claws and my head is a mess

My feet on the road, get ready again
Pump up the blood and don't look in my face
Feel the skin boiling inside like a circus of pain


Like the digits of a million centipedes connected to power
Pushing against the !@$( sons of my enemies cavalry

I speak the false irreverent psalms in god's dirty hour
The skies echoes black in the dead mouth of war, soothing me


Let's build the freak as a new god on the shore
Let's come along together with the foulest roar
I'll be the one who stands in the dead mouth of war.