Гуру ПесенMorbid Angel - Blessed Are the Sick - 3. Brainstorm | Текст песни
The storm will cleanse me
Civilized I shall not be
By this holy strain of laws
I fall below the earth
I smell the ancients breath
The fiends encircle me
They speak my name in tongues
For I'm no human now
I burn the ways conform
The gods are pleased with me
They speak my name in tongues
I am the seer
I know the texts divine
Thunder words
Demons race into my eyes
Azazel
Lend to me your wings of twelve
I shall fly into the storm
I, son of fire, in anger become
The lightning bolts that strike the earth
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