Gas Them All

Ive erased my signs of charity, absorbed sweet inmorality
and intense pain means light for my mental ascent.
I forgot about good manners and about talking in the public square
my eyes stare at the horizon of constant end…
I make love to hate…I make hate to love,
I have all the charachteristics of a human being
but not a single identifiable emotion.

Coro: …Distant Thunder of Death… kind you will be in my mountains!!
I have the clouds you need to step on the populist worms
And crush their dreams of joy!!
You are the instrument to paint the end!
I am the paper in blank to let your artwork be done!!…
Gas them all!

Evil Metal is my born language
to build my empire of lifes decline,
I have not enough sense of humor
to loose with your gregarious mood of jokes.
I have come to destroy your idols
as a not charismatic antichrist,
I am the angel of nothingness
pleased to give your soul what it deserves.

Coro: …Distant Thunder of Death …kind you will be in my mountains!!
I have the clouds you need to step on the populist worms…
And crush their dreams of joy!!
You are the instrument to paint the end!
I am the paper in blank to let your artwork be done!!…
Gas them all!