Sanctus — Antaeus

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus Te deprecamur magum redemptorum Benediction benediction Breathing from the wrath of the cup of God

Curse unto thee, thou flesh of these hands For hast thou not hid me from salvation? Curse and thorns... the deserved reward For thou has fructified the whore of doubt

Therefore hell hath enlarged herself And opened her mouth Without measure And their glory, and their multitude And the pomp, and he that rejoiceth Shall descend into it

De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine At last I have learned the love of thy ways The salt and the needles and the nails of my eyes Come now Lord! Make me whole

Hooks of light, hooks of sight The path to redemption craves for pain again Curse and thorns... the deserved reward Fire of flesh, fire of skin... purification!