Testo di 'Deliverer' di Attika

Rising from the pale horizon
Comes a desert caravan
Prophets of divided souls
Bring our words back to our land
Wielding lust and ignorance
Clutch the book of truth in hand

They've come in war
To kill the peace
And massacre all who stand in the way of the quest
And the written word draws blood.

Folklore of the holy land
These saviors sight this wayward fight
And curses ring from their battle cry
To deliver God in their own rite
"Accept the law we give", they screamed
Or perish in the name of life

To stave their course
To save our hallowed ways
To see another day
On the land we were raised.

The foolish way to change
The peaceful made to flight
To twist our own beliefs
And to kill to make them right
Set apart
From the world
We now
See the light

Enslaved by our own laws
Brought down to our knees
To break our will, our spirit
Will they succeed?

Inflicting wounds to win the people
The air grows foul from sanctity
Good deeds do not go unpunished
And become the whim of destiny
And when the last drop of blood is squeezed
No one is left alive to see

The final blow
On this judgement day
To sentence us to die by the
Mercy we gave
And by our own creed betrayed