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I beheld the overwhelm of streams, and their waters as they fell

I beheld the pillars in yore built, and their crumbling remains

I foretold this plague I wield, and awaited eagerly with my arms open

As foreseen I accepted my fate; and dug up a grave in a henbane grove

The scorching pressure that burns your insides, is not oblivious to me

And the calm of the falling sunlight, does not delights me less

The scars you wield, the pain you dream; the weapon I choose, what I recall

The blood I spill, that feeds the fields; the groan I sing, thou hear as thunder

Perfect is the way of pain when your choice is war

Eternal anger, the hanging hunger; the sacrament of death

A race is weltering in the urine of the beast; rape thee forth with savage strength

Behold the eternal pain, sing the litany.

Sin we choose, as sinners we walk; poisoned are the streams we bleed

Far beyond, beyond the mountains of caskets

An altar is built; flanked by the oracles of an impossible vision

Carry your pride beyond; for you must hold your weapons as you hold your will

A race is weltering in the urine of the beast; guide them lightless for blind is their way

Behold the eternal pain, sing the litany.

A race is bleeding by the scars of the beast; drive them towards the highest of prides

Behold their eternal pain, sing the litany.