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This devil who was dying of poison, who had a bullet in his heart, must have been raised from the dead by the powers of evil. There was something appalling and monstrous in his diabolical refusal to die.

Once, prophet child, once peasant, then the visions came

A thousand miles on pilgrimage, a thousand miles to holiness

And now I hold your empire in my hand

They call me dissolute, they call me Anti-Christ

I’m starets, I’m a great man of Divinity

They call me mad monk, they call me treacherous

I am the Holy Devil, Your Father, Grigori

Your royals, are my pets, Khlysty age, redemption through sin

My eyes that hold cold compulsion, my eyes that bring all to their knees,

My words that leave your empire in disarray

They call me dissolute, they call me Anti-Christ

I’m starets, I’m a great man of Divinity

They call me mad monk, they call me treacherous

I am the Holy Devil, Your Father, Grigori

Once, holy man, marked to kill, my omens will stand

Your poison will not tear me down, your bullets, beatings all futile

My death will bring your empire to its end

They call me dissolute, they call me Anti-Christ

I’m starets, I’m a great man of Divinity

They call me mad monk, they call me treacherous

I am the Holy Devil, Your Father, Grigori