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.
…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.
…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!