Thanatomorphose

A smell of lust arises in the air
Hail to the Mother of pleasures
Baptized with the extreme sin
Walls of Gold arises in the eyes
Dreams of power and glory of the mortals
When the Gods are forgotten
We are the sons of sin
Who down fall in this deep abyss
Abyss of perdition and impurity

In the garden of blasphemy
We cultivate our fire
Embrace the flesh
And fall into temptation

A smell of lust arises in the air
Hail to the Mother of pleasures
Baptized with the extreme sin
Gates of Babylon are decimated again
To bring to mortals vulgar relish
When the Gods are forgotten
We are the sons of sin
Who down fall in this deep abyss
Abyss of perdition and impurity