The Fall Of The Idols Of Flesh — Angel Corpse: текст песни

Dash against the rocks the sickling and his cries Break the back of the steed upon you ride Boiling bodies of water, to glass the sand And may mother's breasts shrivel and dust Tongues shall be cut from gaping mouths For I voice a culling course towards desolation Yet those chained to their own foul flesh Know only obsolescence- their nakedness

Push the rabble back, to the victor come the spoils Work to certain death the labor that toils Bloat and putrefy that which flowers And tear from womb the bleating babe The blind and wretched shall be left to rot The diseased and alme dispatched Give me your sick, your meek, your lowly For I will kick the dogs when they are down

For I am the inferno And you the kindling you the fuel And I am the vulture Feasting on your idols of flesh I am the shepherd and you my flock The lightning strike that splits the rock For I am wrath- vindication And the world my abattoir

Visions of war dreams of anger ectasy A maelstorm of flame infernos of might Lightning phallus crack of thunder roars A lion in furious fight

Cleansing fire insatiable cleaving sword The fall of the idols of flesh

The stellar winds beneath my wings Are purest vengeance The firestorms within my eyes Black purest hate Of blood unvanquished blasphemies My will: one voice With strike of tumult- aftermath In withered flesh rejoice