Blaze of Perdition - Młot, miecz i bat

Time after time, bone to bone.
A grave rhythm, a funeral march.
Sword to sword, sword to nape.
Head on the pavement or a tightened noose?

Driven into the depths of the soul,
it will remain in hearts.
What must hang, will not drown.
The sign of the cross will blaze again.
Time after time, let the blade weave.

Through the guts flow blood, pain, and screams.
Lead, steel - judge and executioner.
On the hump falls the hammer, sword, and whip!
From the sky, heat and thick smoke, the yield of our labor.

The roar of hurricanes like a hymn to self-love.
Forward! In glory lift under the nails' dirt!
Under the banner of virtues, buried in dust and rubble.
Not purity on the lips,
but the untarnished
Self will surface
through a series of inflicted wounds. Onward!

Raise in glory under the nails' dirt.
Under the banner of virtues, a shallow grave awaits.
What we hide within like a priceless treasure
is blood, sweat, and fire... and a Judas tear.

Whoever was placed on the scales and is too light
will answer for sins before the day breaks.
The sun at its zenith, the crown at the bottom
and dried blood. It is here that the shadow fades.
Walking a tightrope. From edge to edge.

Before the glow of happiness fades,
and the weight of scales falls on the hump...
like a hammer, sword, and whip!