Hate to the desires that falls upon the other hands
torn to two
oh, what wicked kings
To crown the serpent,
burning the ancient dove's feathers
Shambling presence, odd pretence
Hatred burning, lust no long deserving
Torn in thorns, seen no more
flickering lights, fuming flames
smouldering walls down across the buried bodies
of them all
Oh, What wicked kings
to kill them all
what hate to the desires that goes on forth
the damning thrones
To death throes for all hoped that lived, now no more
Oh what wicked kings
To where the lands are darks and people do not
strive to roam the streets at all
Oh what wicked kings,
Damn them all.