At The Throne Of Judgment - The Diabolist текст песни

Here in this land, an army gathers
Beneath a conqueror's oppressive hand,
Where a foolish champion leads his steadfast men.
He stands at his pulpit forged by bones of the slain,
He screams to his legions brimming with his gruesome bane

And with God's hand, I shall raise your lands.
I’ll tear your throat, like a wolf to a lamb.
My fists bludgeon, like the horns of a ram.
My sword severs unholy endeavors, you're damned.

Here in this land, Hero's are gods, where stars dictate men;
This bemused wretch seeks something only Immortals can fend.

Alas, winter hath past,
Yet I did not beckon thy blade,
I shall nourish you with god-like prey,
Malicious fiend what is your say?

And with God's hand, I shall raise your lands.
I’ll tear your throat, like a wolf to a lamb.
My fists bludgeon, like the horns of a ram.
My sword severs unholy endeavors.

My sword lay dormant in it's sheath,
Arcturus, bough of the beast,
Bless me with your amnesty
And flaunt your serrated, ravenous teeth!

Here in this land, Hero’s are gods, where stars dictate men;
This bemused wretch seeks something only Immortals can fend.

Alas, winter hath past,
Yet I did not beckon thy blade,
I shall nourish you with god-like prey,
Malicious fiend what is your say?

I shall carve thy epithet into my foe's open chest,
I shall maul their bones clean.
I am Arcturus, my master is in need.