Текст Fit For An Autopsy – The False Prophet

Twisting the words of dead men to suit your perverse beliefs.
Disciple of dishonor.
Loyal heir of unjust grief.
Forked tongue and scales for skin.
You’ll never see the light of day again.
King of all kings.
Serpent divine.
Savior of fools.
Martyr to none.
You will die for nothing.
Father of bastards.
I am the executioner.
Mother of mercy, praise be to those who’ve died in vain.
Whose glorious conquest is this?
Whose failed crusade? What lucid dreams of destiny.
You follow in your wake.
The shadows of the trampled tombs will forever haunt your steps.
A cowards life you lead.
A liar and a thief.
The despair you reap has sowed itself inside your veins.
King of all kings.
Serpent divine.
Savior of fools.
Martyr to none.
You will die for nothing.
Father of bastards.

I am the executioner.
Mother of mercy, praise be to those who’ve died in vain.
You’ll never see the light of day again.
False prophet of misery.
Feasting on the minds of the weak.
Twisting the words of dead men to suit your perverse beliefs.
Disciple of dishonor.
Loyal heir to the unjust grief.
Waiting for your chance to be crucified on a monument of shit.