Give us our daily dread
Deliver us from upheaval
Raise your fist, pugilist
Power to the people
I am an anarchist
Anti-Christ is my device
To resist is to exist
Lying ripe on the vine
Romantic and Satanic
Subtle, yet so sublime
To swear is divine
Carnal knowledge
Now at the hour of death...
There are no winners
Our father who art in Hell
Thy kingdoms come
Thy kingdoms burn
All fear his name
Our Fathers depart to Hell
Wallowing in their shame
Their kingdoms conquered
Warmongers still play the game
Feigned open hostility
Verbal razors cut deep
Praise for the sinners
Now with the power
Our dearth is inhabited...
Our failures who often endeavor
Hallowed be their shame
Time's will be undone
Wise, we will be one
Unearthed as it is forever
Give us our daily dread
Deliver us from upheaval
Raise your fist, pugilist
Power to the people
Our father who art in Hell
Thy kingdoms come
Thy kingdoms burn
All fear his name
Our Fathers depart to Hell
Wallowing in their shame
Their kingdoms conquered
Warmongers still play the game