A Oris Manes

Why do they fall?

In this day I shuffle your madness, show the card, the Fool you will see.
As is only right I'll make you this bitter prophecy.

Mouths shall be your favourite weapons, but you blab and fill'em woth cocks.
Men like you could defy with a gaze only scrap or clocks.

Ancestors still bring up from Hell, and blood is raining like spears.
Their sixth sense is crying out with anger its harsh objection.

Ears blow up as you turn bullshits on, taking this excuse to be deaf.
Rather than open them you will mourn but forget the dead.

Really smells like decaying carcass, and you still pretend is incense.
Your hands of shinings gems can hold shit while they pray the saints.

Ancestors still bring up from Hell, and blood is raining like spears.
Their sixth sense is crying out with anger its harsh objection.

They are empty sad souls.
Screaming souls
(x3) Screaming souls!!!