Spine of silk and eggshell thin,
Pity the bleeder, bruised and palsied prince,
The shameless, desperate, mourn the cherished in ruins,
Yes, our once great, irresolute and forlorn,
Time to destroy.
See it burn, torn down.
How can my nation be saved?
Pray, weep for this age,
Future-scape, future-rape,
Seems it leans to the last days,
Is tomorrow born still?
Is judgment his will, or can we be healed?
Separate church and this present state,
He will destroy.
Wanna see it burn, torn down.
Anna Thema, I hear you whisper at the gate,
Union in Hell not far away,
Anna Thema, Sheol ways require a wage,
A nation harvests its portion.
"Automolech," they sing,
A nation embracing and praising its sin disease,
Time this Scaterd Few took the lead,
Bring the jawbone to these Philistines.
Wanna see it burn now,
Wanna see it burn, torn.
Anna Thema, I hear you screaming at the gate,
Union in Hell not far away,
Anna Thema, Sheol ways require a wage,
A nation harvests its portion.
