Shellproof and safety locked
The boxes round their heads
Isolated and stored
Ego-wired to the core
In a frenzy, the merry-go-round
Of their monkey minds
The optical delusion
Of their consciousness grimed

Depressing ignomies
And godless mockeries
They're dancing on the graves
Of the ones they made slaves
Voracious bloodbath
Leaving life-mocking strands
For the bowls of wrath
Were found in their own hands

All the pain and death, and all the seeking
And all the breaking, it has not been in vain
With every strike of the threshing flail
The harvest, it will end this bloody reign

Their eyes turned away from heaven
Underyoked and downtrodden
By all things fucking hostile
To the nature of the soul, urgh!

Leaving gutted scorched earth
On their rapine damned
For the bowls of wrath
Were found in their own hands

All the pain and death, and all the seeking
And all the breaking, it has not been in vain
With every strike of the threshing flail
The harvest, it will break these crushing chains

Depressing ignomies
And godless mockeries
They're dancing on the graves
Of the ones they made slaves
Voracious bloodbath
Leaving life-mocking strands
For the bowls of wrath
Were found in their own hands
(Nothing will be left but graven words
And only the stones will tell of their piety)

All the pain and death, and all the seeking
And all the breaking, it has not been in vain
With every strike of the threshing flail
The harvest, it will break these crushing chains
All the silence, and all the light, and all the breath
And death will soothe the haunting pain
With every blow of the reaping hook
The harvest, it will end this fucking reign