TORCH OF HUMBLED
When morning comes, that you await...
Praetorians wake with anger in hearts!
Into the lattice lions’ trapped...
Craftsmen have hammered torture’s arts!
Damnatio ad bestias!
The day will come, and you’re again
In search of food upon the streets
Not knowing that you’re under looks
Of darkness’ soldiers sniffing shit!
Discipulus est prioris posterior dies
Evening, entering the threshold,
Shall not grant you welcome rest,
March against the weak a-thunder…
Eyes and ears’ full of pest!
And the night shall not release you,
Pray your god, but beasts will start
Tear your bodies and disease you…
You are scum, you’re gashed apart!
Ubi omnis vita metus est, mors est optima
You were hiding in the dark,
Served your idol, but the torch
Quenched by twilight’s deadly spark,
Scream when seeing burning church!
Dogs of War – against the holy! Burn and cut!
You ask for mercy? Hit the dust and choke with blood!
Every soldier sweats in armour and they not overshot...
Legends of the humbled shall turn to useless dirt!
And skins from animals are torn to make your festal clothes!
Your lives are doomed, and death is smelled by pack of hungry dogs!
Coliseum’s before you, and there’s no futile hope!
Diabolical revenge roars from the stands and top!
Exitus letalis
