Paroles de 'Suffering To The Conquered' par Scythian

Worthless slaves, lick at yours conqueror's heels
Chained, shackled march in sorry procession
Mercy forsaken, laugh at your pride in tatters
Suffering to the conquered, death for the weak!

Cries of your women riddle the burning air
Starving dogs devour you as you bleed
What gods will deliver you from your pointless existence?
Suffering to the conquered, death for the weak!

Tyrants, your sins shall never be forgiven
Hear the call to insurrection sound
Envenomed blades shall rip into your backs
Cruellest death shall visit on your sons

Lords, makers, prayers fall silent
Scourge, plague, hunger and blackest defeat
Thousands strong, ride from distant horizon

Obey! Drones in columns, hundreds deep
Crack on whips of oppression! Tear the spirit from these men!
Toil! In earthly forges work until your end!
Pray to funeral gods for mercy, quick and painless death!

Earth and water: Life in total submission
Dynasties shall spit upon your crude and weakling breed!
Rule of iron! Feed our armies with your children
Perish for our greatness, throw your meaningless lives away!

Dirges sing for the nameless
We who are erased
Save our honour
Spit in the face of the victor

From empty steppe
They came to curse our lives
Blood spilling reavers
To burn our homes and take our wives

Obey! Drones in columns, hundreds deep
Crack on whips of oppression! Tear the spirit from these men
Toil! In earthly forges work until your end!
Pray to funeral gods for mercy, quick and painless death!

Tyrants, your sins shall never be forgiven
Hear the call to insurrection sound
Envenomed blades shall rip into your backs
Cruellest death shall visit on your sons

Lords, makers, prayers fall silent
Scourge, plague, hunger and blackest defeat
Thousand strong, ride from distant horizon

Bringing Scythian Death