Weaving spiders come not here O tempora O mores behind 
the doors of trickery
these faceless souls practice their mind control leaving 
nothing to chance 
they guide a world of impotence they watch us all they 
watch us all who re they
and why have they formed to lead mindless nations who now 
have no control
leaders know the coin to be made and everyday becometh 
closer to slaves they
will not halt they will never be satisfied insolence 
impotence this disease will
never cease this empire is near completion and their 
ideas are becoming our own
power they receive from the countless nations who have 
deceived rise oh ancient
one rise my bohemian son show us your will at last the 
days of darkness are
upon us the days are closing in leaders leading lambs to 
slaughter fear in
every heart and mind fro the members of this sacro-sanct 
sanctuary you will
face resistance a wretched sting so lethal making hairs 
stand one end 
penetrating from the skin to bone.