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The curiousest aspect of this era

is to make you feel at the same time

deadly alone but with bad companions,

hellish crowded but ever divided.

The Paradox of this miserable

democracy of mean and vile ghosts

is the better and bravest of all men

have no choice but follow the worst.

Don't you feel something wild in the air?

twisted forces on the borders.

hidden masters turns the page

and command their wicked new order.

ferox gods are back to rampage

and echoes of ancient slaughters

in the spirit of the new age:

to make life something which no more asks

to be saved.

It's a spiritual waste:

the human rights religion

is just a brilliant pretext

to empty every true freedom,

it's a spiritual hell

if which isn't forbidden

is compulsory, well...now listen me!

hold tight your own true traditions

without forget to be here and now,

learn to recognise a wise leader

without stop hating the tyrants.

Don't mistake this greasy soul market,

this radical-chic heathenism

with a bright revelation for masses:

is made in administration council!

There isn't a place to run away

the world in every corner

showin' a slow herd in a plain

grazin' in wait to be slaughtered

there isn't any aquarian age,

but just blood and disorder.

the only summit well radiate is that you

can observe on a bill of one dollar!

It's a spiritual waste

when all world will be global

and all roots forever dried

(the) risk will be really mortal.

It's a spiritual waste

few breeders and milliards livestock,

the history at its end,

we must resist,

we must resist.