The blow of the wind that erase your prays
It brings the dust of a perverse thought
I prefer to die in free will
Instead to drown in rotten lamentations
Tear the pages of your fears
Become your own thought

Headed to the power I went down
Because of the envy of those that preach the misfortune
Sometimes I can feel that your disillusions make me stronger

I am conceived by the blasphemy
Conceived by inhuman blood

The reading of the filthy book
Can blind a true thought

Your blind hand can't discern an act of freedom
I suffer the anguish for the wisdom
I take with me a revenge traced by hate
Heading to dominate

I destroy the stones in my road
Fear my acts if you are still alive
Then you will see my immortal victory
And you will die rusted for the envy

I am conceived by the blasphemy
Conceived by inhuman blood