Icons of Filth

Whispers turned into screams, the strains have given birth to rage
Despotism from above - war is upon us
The beast is wounded, temples burn, the face of coin is no longer shrouded
Blood and bone in high demand - the end is nigh - grab it!
I can feel the flames that warmed you die in terror
I can feel your gaze upon me shatter
The endless night engulfs me but I will not yield before that terror
No longer will I kneel in front your golden thrones
Fiеnds of our lives, we declarе war upon you
Icons of filth no longer rule over us