Текст: Amon Amarth. God, His Son & Holy Whore.

Serpent tongue speaks to me
Of a man from southern land
How ancient gods are enemies
But I don't understand

Hippocratic voice of love
Talk of peace and Christ
Blasphemer of gods above
One thousand years of lies

They hold their swords to our throats
And force-feed us with faith
'Bout god, his son and holy whore
But now we retaliate

Prophets of a false believe
Talk with tongue of ice
Threaten us with hell beneath
Now we retaliate

Turn the blade around
Put the oppressors down
Turn the blade around
Put the oppressors down
Put them down

Free yourselves from the chains
Of lies that hold you down
Arise to be free again
We'll fight till we have won

Priests of Hippocratic love
Talk of peace and Christ
Power is their only goal
Now they all shall die

Turn the blade around
Put the oppressors down
Turn the blade around
Put the oppressors down

Mess with us and you will feel
A pain so true yet so unreal
Mess with us, you will feel
A pain so true yet so unreal
So unreal

Yeah, use your hate, uncreate
Christian state will meet its fate

God, his son that holy whore
Now you will meet your fate