Christ was born dead. Whom will mankind choose to create the fable of all fables about now?
Succumbed to the birth, fable's incomplete
In the dirtiest of all the cradles
A bloody fetus lies
Hear the cry of the hopeless ones
Those who won't survive
Without the taste of blood in their souls
The final breath, a dead child, the moon
The sulfurous breeze blowing
Let's contemplate the tragic beauty of death...
Wails in vain, tears turn into blood
Before the horrible scene
In which a fallen angel begged for life
The so-called Son of God hadn't time to bite the apple
Nor tasting the sin
It's the end of the heaven's dream on earth...
Christ, the fallen one:
No time enough to be praised
No time enough to "love the fellowman as for himself"...
Salvation never reached, saviors never seen
Ashes of destiny thrown to the wind
By never existent hands
Other gods were usurped, other myths were sacrificed
To please their insatiable hunger
For fresh meat and ingenuousness
The messiah was born dead
No life, no resurrection
But his sons still to gnaw his rotten carcass...