Letra da Música Stealing Gold Out Of A Pocket Of A Corpse de Thralldom

Gather you thoughts for the morbid survival
That will separate the men from the dead
No middle ground, no compromise this time
This is the war of the Black sons vs. the Christian sun
We will come from the north and violate the "right"
Gather your funds from the ones who have fallen
Rejoice for the ultimate intoxication:
The sweet nectar of expiration
Steal from the corporations with all the hate in your heart
Sell drugs to their children, rob the blind man blind
Gain the upper hand before the fallout
Insinuate your hands into the pockets if the conspiacy
Vigor to resist!