Verse 1: I twist your dogma 'til it chokes, crack the foundation, Seraphim on broken wings, tasting devastation. Kick through the gates, yeah, I brought the storm, Your holy books? Firewood — fuel for the reborn. Nine-year brides and blind belief — justify the plague, Prophets built their thrones on fear and blind parade. I don’t need a shepherd — I was born to lead, I piss on the throne and crown, I plant my seed. Hook: Blasphemy’s my dialect, I’m shattering the chains, Free from the fairytales, burning in my veins. This is my uprising — I carve my fate, Spit truth in the wind, standing tall in hate. Verse 2: Heaven’s elite? I bend ‘em, break ‘em raw, Your sacred scrolls — I wipe with the law. From Genesis to Hadith, it’s all the same grind, My rage ain’t blind — it’s surgically aligned. False messiahs, child brides in silk, Divine right soaked in innocent guilt. I don't march to hymns — I forge my own path, Raise middle fingers high while the idols collapse. Hook: Blasphemy’s my dialect, I’m shattering the chains, Free from the fairytales, burning in my veins. This is my uprising — I carve my fate, Spit truth in the wind, standing tall in hate. Verse 3: I storm paradise with boots made of flame, Your angels tremble — can’t even speak my name. I grind your scripture into cinders and ash, No gods above me — just the thunder I crash. No light, no savior, no guiding hand, I rise from the pit, the fury of the damned. Faith was your prison — I shattered the key, Now I run with wolves and howl to be free. Hook: Blasphemy’s my dialect, I’m shattering the chains, Free from the fairytales, burning in my veins. This is my uprising — I carve my fate, Spit truth in the wind, standing tall in hate.
