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.