Masqueradors Of Fraud

And You! Priests, Archbishops
Criminal curates of the people
Hysterical crows of the colony
Bathing the lord's sword on the
Blood of sheep

You yourselves drink the
Tears of a mutilated christ
You go on diverting the
Coins of the craftsman
You drink to man
Overshadowing him
Damning him forever

You abandon him in the
Middle of the street
Shattered, with a stone of terror
Sunken in his soul
On the day of judgement
You will be called into account
And that day is everyday

Every hour in these lands
Which you martyrize relentlessly
Exploiting them
Wasting them slowly until they ulcerate

May you be damned by nature
You have betrayed the
Native land a million times
Shrouded inheritances
In the smoke of insult
And still with the
Foaming mouth of the prophet
You smile and cry out
To the sky and the bankers

Never any mercy for you
Never any mercy for you
Assassins of the light
Amputators of pity
Masqueradors of fraud
Manufacturers of sin

There won't be any mercy for you