Gods To The Godless

I have but one desire
 Let it be
 A pestilence upon your lands
 And a plague upon all your houses
 It is my wish
 To enslave all your people
 The soil enriched with their blood
 To burn your places of worship
 And our gods shall become your Gods
 Our gods shall become your Gods
 And all that lives on the vine is rotten
 May your wines be foul
 May your wines be foul
 And your bread as the flesh of the dead
 As the flesh of the dead
 The dead
 An ill wind to bring nought but decay
 Nought but decay
 Decay
 And the stench of your slaughtered kin
 Your slaughtered kin
 Dead
 And the stench of your slaughtered kin
 Breath, breath in deep
 The rancid stench
 Every last one of you
 The newborn, are borne with fear in their eyes
 And slavery in their limbs
 As tools to build a new Empire
 We are your cross to bear
 You shall be a martyred people
 But as sure as the night follows the day
 You shall be
 A dead
 Dead
 Dead
 People