Scars on our backs, Knifes in our hearts. We beg on our knees, But we'll never give up. As the pain lashes through our souls, Marred and twisted with hate, And torture.
You thought you could break us, You thought we would fall.
You beat our bodies, Frail and useless. Death is our closest companion. But we are still strong, Stubborn you say? It is more then pride that drives us. Makes us stare unflinchingly at the whip as it decends, As are brothers fall to never get up again.
You think we are weak, You think we are hopeless.
There might not be any hope for the damned, But the damned should be feared for their fate is secure. And yours is not. You could fall at any moment, Seemingly no reason. Or is it our damnation finnaly getting you, Dragging you down with us, Bringing you before our Dark Prince. The Fallen Angel, A crown of thorns on his head and Magnificiant black wings spread wide. You thought we would break,