Don't stand still, sway to the drone of herds unkown of faces forgotten and forlorn move on and be counted at the altars, of gods usurped watch the evil birds bellow fire from heaven's belly , torn ... What sins Morbid mortification, bring It’s no time for salvation But to move, not to think Don't stand still, sway to the drone of herds unkown of faces forgotten and forlorn No fumes of burning flesh No plumes of putrid smoke Just the cries, of naked souls Being hurled into the fire of millennial cold Swarm of immortal sinners, sinned Lips sealed with silence Walk their own funeral march Stripped of desire, the end begun