The defeated, the weak, the system
The divine world gave birth
To a thousand charlatans
They weep, they scream
For who they are they shall be intervened
Tools of torture rusted blades
Every piece of flesh the torsos they come cleaned
Every piece of me pounds the fecal minds of the slaves
Crushed on thousands with the gentle blast
Pavement of a thousand torsos is now complete
For me I walk on the path with the divine beat