The Confessional
The Troops of Doom
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In search of invisible forgiveness
The man in black with the melted cross
Listen to my whining guilt
My existence of pain and loss
The expensive price to pay
In a short time, soon
Chained in my own soul
Condemned by the troops of doom
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Kneeling by the altar
The weak and impure priest
A dry shot in the mouth
Starting the blood feast
Ecumenical decay
The farce of dirty power
For the rest of the day
The bell is silent in the tower