Murder Is A Privilege Of Highest Ones

As a wolf-faced ghost I've been running
From those deadlights by which I was born
And condemned to walk
Amongst skyscraping tombstones

I grew a child of catacombs
Amplified by a different kind of nature
Which is that, of human fear
They do guess about it's existence
But refusing all the proof
Prefer to believe in fairytales about God'n'Satan

A will of hunter appearing into me
Eradicate principles of mortals in my flesh
And I return not to give a peace
But to judge and punish them with my sword

As a fatal stamm infiltrates the cell with no immunity
As a savage murderer enters the sleeping house
I'll come and make sores of warfare reality
I would hear the cries of innocent
I would hear the prayers of desperate
And would laugh, for I know there's no heaven or hell

I was a witness to the death of Avel
I know where Jesus has been crucified
And thus I envy the claymen
So easily shattered by my scythe

Yet I'm tied in chains of life eternal
Murder is my only pleasure and my only aim
So I have been killing
Cause murder is a privilege of highest
Is privilege of mine
Thus I'm the supreme being