Madness

The glory of our blood and faith
Death lays its icy hand on kings today
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
You can`t stop
HELL! Sceptre and crown
HELL! Equal made
Some men with swords may reap the field
And plant the rotten seed, where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield
They tame but one another still:
When they soon will creep to death
Creep to fcking death