Luyện nghe bài hát Bathory's Sainthood

Do you feel alive now you own the dead
Praying on corpses, their hearts no longer feel
Your sainthood is obvious on starving face
Your given us a way to separate

The poor from hate, the rich from the stone
Genuflect away the sins that known
Sure one rules but heaven's made of gold
So chalk it up to folly and consequence

Do we really want what we really a bastard messiah
Wrapped up in the of patriotic clean white washed desire
And time the real war's defined, the trenches are filled
To battle lines, torches to bridges and bridges to torture
Headlines distort we see as our borders

And what gives us the right to with remorse for a God
They created, a God for the poor, for we're bleeding
Out the devil hicks in angelic shrouds, blasphemy as
Out we've asked for it for more of the

Sad scheme of ghettos created by the elite
For our minds and burning, no longer
For freedom just more of the same