Beg for a fast death
I sentence you to slow
Living in filthy room
Without doors
In your blood
Bugs of hate begin to multiply
Cutting piece by biece
Leper body of truth
I see rotten corpses
Digged graves
I hear moans dying
I choose darkness

You taking the deadly harvest
Of an epidemic
Look at your world
Look at the work of great God

Let the fire burn me
Let it will decompose my soul

The stench of agony squeezes out
Last drops of infected "I"
To free from you
From your heaven
Behind the seven mile
Of scream is hell...
It's belongs to you