Translated by A. Z. Foreman - On the Slaughter lyrics

O heavens above, beg mercy for me! If a god be in you, with a path in your round, A path that I have not found Pray unto him for me! My heart is dead, prayer drained from my tongue. The hands are limp, and hope has gone. How long shall we suffer? How long? Executioner! Here is a neck for you To ax with your arm. Butcher me like a dog. All the world is my slaughtering-block, And we are just a few. My blood's fair game. Strike the skull and spray Murder's blood; blood of babes and old men on your clothing Will never be washed away. If Justice there be, let it now come round. But if I am blotted from under the sky Ere it comes, let Justice die And its throne for all time be cast down, And heaven rot with eternal wrong. Then, ye wicked, go forth in this your brute force. Live and bathe in your blood, and be strong. And cursed be he that shall say: avenge this! Fit revenge for the blood of a little child The Devil has not yet compiled. No, let blood pierce the abyss Let it run through great deep of all creation And eat away in the darkness, breaching This earth's whole rotting foundation!