You who were voracious wolf In ingenuous sheep skin A tyrant who wanted to become a martyr You, bastard, knew what would be your end
You were created by men Who saw in your figure The image of a divine king Who would bring with your death salvation for the weak
My voice’s my weapon And if I need it To crucify you once more I won’t hesitate to use it ‘Cos everyday and every night I carry you into the abyss
I gave you complete darkness When in the valley of death You went through in search of the light And the salvation of your soul
Doubt and fear accompany you When death kiss your pale face Your whipped flesh is devoured by worms And the smell of death exhales everywhere…
“Quantum nobis prodeste haec fabula Christi!”
I scream! You cry! My wrath has the power of the storms I live! You die! Forever I’ll rejoice about your death…
You have searched for heaven beyond the skies But only black clouds arose above your head Covering the full blood-bathed moon Announcing your death, you bastard king!
Tears of blood flow out from your eyes Your face expresses total pain Dogs are ready on the look out To steal your last breath
Your soul was dissected by your egocentrism Your words would be used to decimate mobs Castles of gold would be raised With bricks full of innocent blood
The spear that dilacerates your flesh And nails your sickly heart Is the fury of my screams And if I’ll need this wild beast To see you succumb before me once more… …I won’t hesitate to use it again and again.