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Merciless shearers

Bloodletters of their flock

This parasitic wickedness

Renders them worthless

Whom do you serve?

The Lord, or your stomach?

You, whom devour

Your people for futile gains

Worthless

Worthless

You sow

The glory has departed

Come the fate of felled priests

Whom do you serve?

The Lord, or your stomach?

You, whom devour

Your people for futile gains

Ichabod

You are abandoned

Ichabod

He never was for you

Come the fate of felled priests

Come the fate of burning flesh

No sacrifice shall satiate

the hunger of cowards

Parasites behind regalia

The Lord sees past your veil

The glory has departed x4

Ichabod

The glory gone