Let Him Bleed (On The Inverted Cross)

Unworthy to die as your own prophet Disdain the mimic of a false god's death The wood is planted Firmly in the ground The feet turned to the sun Your head pointed to hell Your sky's now a desolated Land You will stretch out your hands And another will dress you And take you where you do not want to go Let him bleed On the inverted cross Won't be a loss "Cum esses lunior. cingebas te et ambulabas ubi volebas. Cum autem senuens extendes manus tuas et alus te cinget et ducet quo tu non vjs" You will stretch out your hands And embrace your useless death A pool of your own blood Will crown your head Let him profusely bleed Let him ingloriously bleed Let him fucking bleed Let him fucking bleed