Murder Is A Privilege Of Highest Ones

As a wolf-faced ghost I've been running

From those deadlights by which I was born

And condemned to walk

Amongst skyscraping tombstones

I grew a child of catacombs

Amplified by a different kind of nature

Which is that, of human fear

They do guess about it's existence

But refusing all the proof

Prefer to believe in fairytales about God'n'Satan

A will of hunter appearing into me

Eradicate principles of mortals in my flesh

And I return not to give a peace

But to judge and punish them with my sword

As a fatal stamm infiltrates the cell with no immunity

As a savage murderer enters the sleeping house

I'll come and make sores of warfare reality

I would hear the cries of innocent

I would hear the prayers of desperate

And would laugh, for I know there's no heaven or hell

I was a witness to the death of Avel

I know where Jesus has been crucified

And thus I envy the claymen

So easily shattered by my scythe

Yet I'm tied in chains of life eternal

Murder is my only pleasure and my only aim

So I have been killing

Cause murder is a privilege of highest

Is privilege of mine

Thus I'm the supreme being