Fleshweaver

Save all your prayers

Tell me
Who says that you're the one to make them all of million souls all bow at your will
These things will turn to sand as I will grind your bones with might of my hands

You'll turn to dust
At the end of a day
We will see if you even can lay your hands on me

Burn the nations
With a noose around my neck
And all your efforts disappear in me

何も

All your efforts turn to despair
Eradicate all hope that's within
A wall of suffering
Etched into with dying scripture

Counting seconds towards doomsday to come
Reality is so fucking bleak
Your reality is so out of reach

Mindless efforts
You hate to see it but you'll never be enough
I am inside of your mind like a fucking pest you hate