Letra da Música The Prophets de Mechanical Manipulation

We - hollow prophets - sons of the night and darkness.
Sentenced for damnation pay homage to primaeval beast.
Crimson line of life vomited on by sin,
infected by desire of success is ending.

Christian mind surrounded by death cold
is realizing what happened.
The moment of truth has come, time to know the creator's will.
Palsied with fear you're suffocating
with mephitic smoke of beistings.
This smell rips your bowels.
Your faith is weakening, God's anger grows.

Unconsciously you fall in madness.
Mad will of revenge and thirst of saint's blood captured you.
Now you're satans property.
We are not afraid to look at primaeval ghosts face...