Luyện nghe bài hát Gods To The Godless

I have one let it be, a pestilence upon your lands
A plague upon all houses, it is my wish
To all your people, the soil enriched with their blood
To burn your of worship our Gods shall become your Gods

All that lives on the vine is rotten, may your wines be
And bread as the flesh of the dead
An ill wind to bring, but decay
And the stench of slaughtered kin

The newborn, borne with fear in eyes
And slavery in their limbs as to build a new empire
We are your cross to bear, perhaps you shall be a people
But as sure as the night follows the day, a people

The desire to sweep away what is sacred and
To enforce and embrace tragedy, to it deep
the subconscious of generations