I have one desire
Let it be
pestilence upon your lands
plague upon all your houses
It is my wish
To enslave all your people
The soil enriched with their blood
To burn your places of worship
Our gods shall [bad word] your gods

All that lives on the vine is rotten
May your wines be foul
And your bread as the flesh of the dead
An ill wind to bring naught but decay
And the stench of your slaughtered kin
Breathing deep the rancid stench

The newborn are born with fear in their eyes
And slavery in their limbs
As tools to build a new empire
We are your cross to bear
Perhaps you shall be a martyred people
But as sure as the night follows the day
You should flee
dead people

"The desire to sweep away what is sacred and profane.
To enforce and embrace Tragedy... to imbed it deep
within the subconscious of generations..."