Our final word seals your fate
 King of the Jews, the son of God
 Now condemned to death and hate

 INRI, INRI, false prophet

 Carry the cross upon your back
 And take it to where you'll die
 A crown of thorns, for you dear king
 With the other filth, be crucified

 INRI, INRI, false prophet

 Taste the blood that trickes from your ravaged brow
 As the sands of time run out
 Lord of nothing is what we consider you
 For victo ry is truly ours

 Now you die