In the darkness he lies,
Deceived by the ecclesiastical horror,
In the world, which belong to the castaways,
They came to kill on behalf of their God,
What good is he, can't he see,
The melancholy that these leave.
The cries of the innocent souls,
Never heard or believed,
These beasts that vanquished them,
In the dungeons, imprisoned.
Obscured in the abyss, of the insane,
All that remains, are the ruined reminiscences,
Of the diseased, those who conceived.
For mercy they asked, with gramercy,
In the name of their lord,
Living mandatory suicide,
Screamed in pain, bullets fell like rain.
What good is that god,
And these charlatans who preached,
To kill and to lie, morally mislead.
When would he learn,
The struggle goes on forever,
Until you reach your grave,
Your obscene demise, be fouled fate.