Centurian

I am the rack
on which my saviour bleeds and cries
with nails through hands and feet
those bitter tears received with greed
Not to speak of the Blood
to be seen in streams on his head
from under a crown of thorns
the sinful human to drown
Bleed on me
Bleed me sore
The seed is sowed to Hell with the creed
The shame of deepest guilt
on which the whorehouse is built
No glory before paying the whore
No glory until her lust is stilled
Better Off Burning
Better Off Burning
Land of the saviour
by souls bestowed
Forgiveness shall dwell
in the heart of good behaviour
In time
our future meets the past
no more time to climb the heavens
this century shall be the last
In time
salvation will let go of me
No longer shall mankind avoid the fire
In eternal prayer ro retire