Famed be our God in the sacrament of perdition!
Behold death and woe of your sons, who filled the graves
With themselves being devoured by Mother Earth
Who wasted their lives under your purulent shine
Blindly searching for you... Though you were amongst them
The dead sing their fame to you with silence
In your halls of darkness. They are so blissful and empty
In the embrace of God given life to them
So they could see death... And death they will behold
Blissful be our God in grief and cold of the dead
In beggar minds of striving ones
God is blissful in pain
Blissful in filth
Omnivorous with your flame of scorn!

One day the stench of God
Will fill the empty bodies
Of craving after Heaven…

You, who are still alive, sing thrice in your holy rapture
Blissful be God in our grief and death!

Shores and poles are mutilated
In endless thirst for clarifying words
God's tablets are spread with the vomit of leprous dogs
And pigs are longing for pressing themselves to crosses

Our Father! Your tablets are ruined!