the ritual of hatred
for men without faces
wounded and cursed
ignorant and blind
winners of past days
now at the bottom of life
like a flock of sheep
led to the slaughterhouse
to meet the pitiful fate
being a piece of meat
thousands deadmen damned by the gods
with golden eyes and stone souls
march on a road toward horizon
leaving behind this world of the despised
slavery of pride
triumph addiction
dancing in shackles
around fresh graves
abandoned generation
awaken from the lethargy
walk in a fog by circles
and seek the destiny
everlasting peace
no more than just a dream
hands stained with blood
will never be washed
hanged men on trees and piles of skulls
stand as a milestones along our way
walk straight to strong arms of the death
condemned to be punished by butcher's hands
the last drop of blood
in the ocean of grief
endless and quite
where we all will drown