Текст песни The Puritans Hand - Primordial

There is plague at the door
And it begs to be among us
In the ashen dreams
Of crippled children

There is sickness in the soil
And nothing grows this side of Eden
Nor in the yearning abyss
That is all things to men's hearts
Nor in the skeletal tug
Of motherhood that curses all with life
That curses all with life

There is disease in the air
And it grasps at the throat of virtue
Rosary twist in leather hands
And offer prayer for me

And I have fought the God of men
For my whole life

Can you feel the puritans dead hand
Throttles all life

Now we sit at the table together
Breaking bread and drinking blood wine

And we spent the smallest hours
Staring into the void
Between sleep and dreams
That stretch from the womb to the grave

So feel the puritan's dead hand as it throttles all life

So clasp your hands
And bend your broken knees
For no one else will
And your confessions
Of worthless guilt
Are not your saving grace
And so you seek
You seek redemption at the puritan's hand
Redemption