Текст песни Witches (Sons of Perdition) с переводом

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Withered crops and skin that itches

Pagan prayers howled at the moon

The hour of their destruction looms

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

They live not by our fair wishes

Abhorrent gestures and ancient words

Poison dram and bitter herbs

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Backs bent 'neath our righteous switches

They serve not the god we do

So we break them under wheel and boot

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

In the caves and in the thickets

They send vile prayers into the night

Under their curse we do indict

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

They wallow in ill-gotten riches

The butcher’s blade will cut and carve

So that our people shall not starve

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

The people have made their decision

To cut them down in squalid sin

To exterminate their kith and kin

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Hang like fruit, necks broke and twisted

Cast them into the abyss

Lest they call up a dread eclipse

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Dead eyes bulge and death nerve twitches

We light them up in offering

We heed not their cries of suffering

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Burn in piles or bloat in ditches

We set their bodies all ablaze

To cleanse the county of their ways

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Pay not heed to our religion

So blood is spilt and limbs are sawed

For ours is such a jealous god

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Buried deep in wells and trenches

Where they’ll whisper not another sound

As they rot and run into the ground

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

With their inner sight and sundry stenches

A shuffling horde of satan’s slaves

They claw out of their moldy graves

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

All that we have left are wishes

Which we scream into empty skies

Devoid of ears, devoid of eyes

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

We’ve left behind our superstitions

We petition the celestial throne

As they tear our flesh, as they break our bones

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches

Pointing fingers, spiteful liches

Even now they don’t repent

But feast on vengence long undreamt

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