Dead Belief - Mors Subita

Redeemer of nothingness

Your goal, pure emptiness

Pathetic waste of human race

Stitched eyes, blinded from hell

Poor mind, isolated in comfort cell

Good and gracious mercy’s whore

Your schizophrenic mind

Is feeding your dreams

Forever sleep

You give and more you give the more you take

By giving for poor you’re buying relief

You are decorating your golden image

Hypocrite

I bet you doesn’t even see

Your dead belief, twisted reality

No more mercy in the veil of charity

Organizations grabbing their part

In the veil of charity

We’ll wash your sins and you shall be free

Sickness of profusion