Wolfgang Parker - The Father / The Son | Текст песни

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• Wolfgang Parker
• The Father / The Son

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I am fear, creeping through the night
Priming the battles, that light up the sky
Father of Children, Sword of the Pure
I will find you, a knock at the door
Daughter of Sinners, Unholiest of Whores
Strayed from the angels that ran from the war
Orphans by circumstance, cowards by choice
Fools to think that I have mercy anymore

Far from the city, I pray upon your dreams
Prayers of the guilty, the flock in my keep
I cannot comfort you, what have you done?
Your senses deafened by the roar of the gun
Sirens howling, seducing fearful men
Sowing her garden, in fertile fields of dread
Father of Children, hallowed be my fame
Savior of cowards that murder in my name

Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak but He is strong

The earth shakes under my tanks' iron treads
My planes fill the skies, my rule is at hand
Stirred by the soul of sodomy and saints
My pledge: truth, justice, and the American way

Hallowed be my fame!

We are at war with the slaves of civil government!
Only by subjugating all who oppose our will can America truly become...
One nation, under one God!
Supremacy is our liberty!
Equality is surrender!