Kill

I won't lose my faith

I want to die for your blood and for your seeds

I won't lose my pride

I want to kill everyone and everywhere

Dig out the hatchet of the purgatory

How pretty well it‘s handled

Wave around and hit them to ground

Let the sharp edge sing

Rivulets of blood-red juice

Makes me, The Tool, thirsty

The more I swing, the more the hatchet sings

The funeral song of Presence

Falling to the ground – the rain of purified

Red blossoms and it’s leaves – they decayed for their disease

Dig out the hatchet of the purgatory

How pretty well it‘s handled

Wave around and hit them to ground

Let the sharp edge sing

Rivulets of blood-red juice

Makes me, The Tool, thirsty

The more I swing, the more the hatchet sings

Funeral - song of Presence

I am the tool of Gaia

I am here to clear

I am the tool of Gaia

So listen the Funeral song of Presence