I have one Desire 

let it be 

a Pestilence upon your lands 

a Plague upon all your houses 

it is my wish 

to Enslave all your people 

The soil enriched with their Blood 

To Burn your places of Worship 

Our Gods shall become your Gods 



All that lives on the vine is rotten 

may your wines be foul 

and your bread as the flesh of the dead 

an ill wind to bring nought but decay 

and the stench of your Slaughtered kin 



The newborn, borne with fear in their eyes 

and slavery in their limbs 

as tools to build a new Empire 

We are your cross to bear 

Perhaps you shall be a martyred people 

But as sure as the Night follows the Day 

...a Dead People 



"The desire to sweep away what is sacred and profane. 

To enforce and embrace Tragedy...to imbed it deep 

within the subconscious of generations..."