Famed be our God in the sacrament of perdition! Behold death and woe of your sons, who filled the graves With themselves being devoured by Mother Earth Who wasted their lives under your purulent shine Blindly searching for you... Though you were amongst them The dead sing their fame to you with silence In your halls of darkness. They are so blissful and empty In the embrace of God given life to them So they could see death... And death they will behold Blissful be our God in grief and cold of the dead In beggar minds of striving ones God is blissful in pain Blissful in filth Omnivorous with your flame of scorn!
One day the stench of God Will fill the empty bodies Of craving after Heaven…
You, who are still alive, sing thrice in your holy rapture Blissful be God in our grief and death!
Shores and poles are mutilated In endless thirst for clarifying words God's tablets are spread with the vomit of leprous dogs And pigs are longing for pressing themselves to crosses