All their heroes are dead inside
I watch them wither and cower in mind
The sewer dwellers need their cellar
A sanctuary for the blind

Invert the cross
I know it, doesn't make you Satanic
Hail the goat, or so you say
Ambiguous anyway
Invert the cross
I know it, doesn't make you Satanic
Theistic life, that you know
Spurn all gods, reap what you sow

The vicious cycle that never ends
Form a new gang again and again
Same old story with inflated glory
Revert to the sewer never to transcend