Praise the Stench (...of Your Fallen Idols)

Death rises upon the fertilized fields
The hand of the Maker destroys all your relics
So when you come in fane, your people praise the stench
Their fate collapses to elevate your name
No way to the light!

A treacherous punishment offends the heavens
You once again accepted the path which you shouldn't stick
(The path which you shouldn't stick
'cause it will lead you right to the death)
Your symbols turn to ashes - their strenght is worthlessness
The waiting is over - it's time to begin

Then you chose to follow serpent's tongue
Cold and venomous sting which pricked again
Have you ever recognized the lies in your own words?
(In your own words)

Temples will hail the sacrifices
You treat them like an idols, respecting them
But we're here to mutilate and to waste
If the sons of our land continue to live like slaves

Time can not change the course of every deed that you have done
But we've given to you the last chance to improve yourself

So praise the stench of your fallen idols
They are delighted when you are despised
You are the one who will never be prized
You're left alone, watching the burned horizon