I \'m writing to you from a country
that now exists on the faceless dead .
The iron candlestick spits smoke
from the crematorium
and the star finishes its meal
by burping napalm ...
I am writing to you
from the belly of a land
so sterile ,that\'s no longer
even serves as a tomb ...
green-greyish clouds
concealing the shame of heavens...
Close your lips to the dust
that tasts punishment !
Call to the judgement of times,
everything ,weighted,counted, divided !
The head of the false messiah
will fall on the sand !
The bitter nettle flower
will grow on the old temple wall ...
Crows will feast
disguised as humans
under Ahriman\'s plumage,
devouring their own kind ...
Sarah ,the Moloch will claim
the fruit of your progeny
and you\'ll find your way back
to wandering ...
I\'m writing to you
from a earth
that will grow green
on the price of blood...
( Prophety of the century )