Atéa 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,
Bless me once again with all your sins.
Sacmis enthroned over thorns,
Your being adopts ten thousand forms.
Hailed as a demigod, embodied in filth,
Felt the beauty of the brutality?
Gospel of injustice, unleashed anger,
Addicts to the lament in a parasitic life.
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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