The thousand plagues are here! To dominate your putrid lie! You didn't resuscitate! Liar bastard! Your rotten pale corpse soon will be consumed It's the symbol of two thousand years of lies Look his pathetic standing, take him down from the cross The vultures announce feast once more The stench of your rotten body Is the sign of the new millennium Forever the Nazarene suffers a painful feeling of ...No ...Resurrection!