Through the ticket of the wood
A black couch will bring us to the initial aim.
Our suffering
For it they will get their due
This is a way to the Great Glory.
We will be drunk with the Triumph.
I will create my own Precept
I flatter myself with pride.
All of us are afraid of the light
But when our consciousness is imprisoned in the grip of vice
(Under the yoke of the puritanical power),
We sacrifice ourselves trying to liberate from eternal servitude of Christianity.
We will hide from the deadly murderous daybreak
The church bells are ringing to my madness
My reason has awoken from the millennial oblivion.
The confession with the priest
I flatter myself with pride.
Our Tyranny will rule the Heavens.
We will try to glance at the world with the dead eyes.
My soul is a container of vice
I’ve become the central point of the world rest.
Through the ticket of the wood
A black couch will bring us to the initial aim.
Our suffering
For it they will get their due
This is a way to the Great Glory.
We will be drunk with the Triumph.
I will create my own Precept
I flatter myself with pride.
Temptation is my secret,
Into the pantheon of the tragedies
Our names will be put down,
In that war survive just beasts.
