Cycles Of Tyranny by Noctem
At�a angry you wake up,
walking once again over the heads of men.
The arrogant Ilion burns under your immaculate feet.
Sacred mother dress me in blood,
honor me with your putrid breath.
Unworthy of the wise men who trust in your virtuous
speech.
The Sun was rising just like the stars.
The sacred image of the goddess of filth,
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