My Son My Executioner - This Curse | Текст песни

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• My Son My Executioner
• This Curse

The cresent moon shines upon us in the blackest night
Deceased oppressions on wings of hell’s angels
Cold as naked babes, in the womb we struggle
Left as children crying for the day to end
We petition departed terror and request its stronghold
The gentlemen warriors bring their cause to our eyes
To decide they fate and bring their death
They sing their praises
They say their prayers
Righteousness is cursed from below
As a plague to slaughter
A pestilence to slay
Righteousness is cursed
The demons rise from the graves of the lifeless
Bringing forth a plague set to destroy
Ashes of the dead portray likes of me
With faces of dismay they speak of their pain
Children weeping at the sight of bereavement
They lose their conscience and the fortitude
Their blood runs cold at the sight of the dead
Emotions are left behind
I will never forget the smiles of the children
As their bodies are cast into the flames
Nevermore to reign in the courts of kings

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