stand proud, 'fore your, broke down, blind and feeble king
he claims your glory in his bloated name
to fame, to pain, to be horribly maimed
now face your death and walk in flames
they, stake you, break you, offered up and slain
he claims your glory, martyr be thy name
a lie, a lie, he spurs us on with lies
knowing no mercy and no shame

your great king, milk-eyed and obscene
mind, like swiss cheese, oh great king
legs pierc-ed and weak, hear the toad speak

now, take his, reins and, tie thee to thy men
ride blind into the valley of our death
await, the wake, a sundering to take
and make our blood into a lake
he who goes laughing madly into death
sailing on the wind of his soldiers' breath
we spit, and shit, and so our soul does quit
the dimming light flicker and flit

this charred heap, does echo and weep
end-less warring, oh fell king
laugh wicked and shriek, now and always

broke, apart, a heap, of mangled flesh and steel
machine, and man, entwined and so unreal
now mold, and rot, there broken on the wheel
a death, rattle, eyes wide and fixed in zeal

now staring, up into the white, mael-strom of the void
of all death, a chorus singing, high and quite haunting
endlessly, blinding vortice, slow-ly drawing, us into
the merging host of singing soul