To suffer myself, to be whipped by rods Burned with fire, or killed with steel... If I disobey...
In times of plague, famine and death A fantastic clamour raises from the coliseum The circus maximus under an overwhelming sun Welcome the silver-armoured barbarian horde
Overtrained gladiators thrown in the arena Alongst chained lions and phaetonic aurigas Acclaimed by the crowd, idolized as mightiest gods They brandish their weapons, transcending the greedy punters
By times of triumph, decadence and impericide The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels Shame to the last one, honour and pride for the son chosen While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate
Supreme machines whoe spectacle is primordial Torture and "To the death" have never existed Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs...
"Sold then bought as interestless things My still in the art of fighting My strength in the will of survival Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval..."
Neither whiplashes or insults prevent me To be entangled in the revenge spiral One day, the gathering'll scand my grade Quia nominor Opplomakus
Ave Imperator, Morituri te salutant The opplon strongly hold, we brave our combat Helios smashes us with solar might But we must play this ever-cheated game
Moved as vulgar pawns on a circular sand chessboard We are human bishops handled by emperor's attractions The fantastic clamour raises again on the arena In times of plague, famine and death
Slave... Slave then deity Grandiose... Grandiose destiny Dictum... Dictum Primeval Law... Law of survival
By times of triumph, decadence and impericide The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels Shame to the last one, honour and for the son chosen While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate
Supreme machines whose spectacle is primordial Torture and "To the death" have never existed Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs...
"Sold then bought as interestless things My still in the art of fighting My strength in the will of survival Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval..."
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Copy to Clipboard: To suffer myself, to be whipped by rods Burned with fire, or killed with steel... If I disobey...
In times of plague, famine and death A fantastic clamour raises from the coliseum The circus maximus under an overwhelming sun Welcome the silver-armoured barbarian horde
Overtrained gladiators thrown in the arena Alongst chained lions and phaetonic aurigas Acclaimed by the crowd, idolized as mightiest gods They brandish their weapons, transcending the greedy punters
By times of triumph, decadence and impericide The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels Shame to the last one, honour and pride for the son chosen While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate
Supreme machines whoe spectacle is primordial Torture and "To the death" have never existed Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs...
"Sold then bought as interestless things My still in the art of fighting My strength in the will of survival Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval..."
Neither whiplashes or insults prevent me To be entangled in the revenge spiral One day, the gathering'll scand my grade Quia nominor Opplomakus
Ave Imperator, Morituri te salutant The opplon strongly hold, we brave our combat Helios smashes us with solar might But we must play this ever-cheated game
Moved as vulgar pawns on a circular sand chessboard We are human bishops handled by emperor's attractions The fantastic clamour raises again on the arena In times of plague, famine and death
Slave... Slave then deity Grandiose... Grandiose destiny Dictum... Dictum Primeval Law... Law of survival
By times of triumph, decadence and impericide The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels Shame to the last one, honour and for the son chosen While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate
Supreme machines whose spectacle is primordial Torture and "To the death" have never existed Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs...
"Sold then bought as interestless things My still in the art of fighting My strength in the will of survival Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval..."
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