Whitechapel - Father Of Lies

Tell me all the things I want
I shall prove myself among the wise
I have failed you
Grant my wish, I beg of thee
For I have done all the deeds you have asked of me
That whimpering, wretched whore that birthed your adversary
I retrieved her head and mutilated every last remain
The blood of the innocent, I have spread with no fucking remorse
How dare you interfere; my monumental wake
Forever keep these words from my mouth

I will become the Father of Lies

Holiest of Holy, I ensure your crucifixion
Enlighten me, 'O Noble One, of your mendacity
Give me the clearest view of your so-called commonwealth
We are your foes, Annihilators of the Sky

(Limb from limb)
The rites are carved into your forehead
(Limb from limb)
Engorged into your psyche
(Limb from limb)
I smell the stench of your demise
(Limb from limb)
Humanity will be destroyed

My Procreator, I have warned thee of my prophecy
Until that day, stand your fucking ground
My Procreator, stand your fucking ground