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1.	 Untitled	00:10	  instrumental

2.	 Triumph of Genocide	10:14	  
 	 Hunt for the guilty ones
gas chamber, burning pits on the ground
bony creatures standing in front of rifles
sound of death echoing from distance

tear blurred eyes watching from other side of barbwire
stigmatized by not belonging to the rest
heritage of being seed of suspicion
Extinction, turns new page in history

Savage tribal war
ethnic cleansing, systematic terror
mass rape, torture and death
rotting corpses laying under scorning sun

3.	 Untitled	00:10	  instrumental

4.	 Untitled	00:10	  instrumental

5.	 Casting the First Stone	08:12	  
 	 Abominations surrounding
excuses for human being
judged to extermination
logical path, they've meant to be

Casting First Stone
Casting First Stone

One takes power into his hands
leading world to logical end where few wants to go
Weeping crowd under swallowed illusion
looks from distance when steps are taken

Casting First Stone
Casting First Stone

Crossed the path of weakness, Into glorious ride
Towards bestial survival, towards mightiest pride
The call of natural order, the call of tribal bond
extermination of savage, extermination of abhor living meat

6.	 Stabat Mater	19:37	  
 	 O how sad and afflicted
was that blessed Mother of the Only-begotten!
Who mourned and grieved, the pious Mother,
with seeing the torment of her glorious Son.
Who is the man who would not weep
if seeing the Mother of Christ in such agony?
Who would not have compassion
on beholding the devout mother suffering with her Son?

He who can see the grief and misery
He worships the call of death
He who can see the weak falling
with grotesque smile on face
He who can see the world now burning
all the old, turning into dust
He who can see the light fading
In eyes of the followers of jewchrist

For the sins of His people
she saw Jesus in torment
and subjected to scourge
She saw her sweet Son dying, forsaken
she saw Jesus in torment
while He gave up His spirit.
Who would not have compassion
on beholding the devout mother suffering with her Son?

His eyes burns of lust
His fist is raised ready for battle
Empathy discarded for Joy of atrocity
His world to take, his world to own

(The grieving Mother stood
beside the cross weeping
where her Son was hanging.
Through her weeping soul,
compassionate and grieving,
a sword passed.)
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