Pounding upon his zealots with colossal fists We have learnt to hail without making a face, Such is our strength, the only virtue that exists, Beyond the farce of Creation That so many yet embrace What God hides with aplenty storms of curses, That daily rise, while enthralling lies he nurses, To see your strife be mocked and spit on by the like Of many scums, who fancy your head on a spike With splendor our heart is filled His burning essence conceals A scent of pure freedom rebuilt With delight, We breathe this fragrance every night Wherein Twilight, Reveal the secrets of your might What God does with violent whirlwinds of curses, That daily rise, while alluring lies he nurses, To see your plight be mocked and spit on by the like Of many scums, who fancy your head on a spike Amongst the shades, a grave-like discontent, His light flickers and loosens the ties Shining above in dissonant lines No deed of mine and no desire It does not chain nor blind but inspire It is the source of our extolment