Tekster:
Spirit Disease

In this cell that is ours there is no pity No sunrise on the cold plain that is our soul No beckoning to a warm horizon The sun shall never greet my eyes

My veins they are open And yours to fill My sins Ain't easy to kill Drowning in love, by bitterness warped We sleep in different nights ugly and Drugged

Each day a mournful pity Life looks upon you with scorn Hopes live, visions elude As your feeble breath is torn Six sinister thorns of beauty The claws

Oversættelse: At The Gates. Terminal Spirit Disease.

Rape the women, castrate the men. Suffocate the little children. The elderly can be burnt alive. Just make sure every one of them dies. Kill them all

[Originally recorded by DEATH] Trapped inside a life which is not yours. Spirits within causing terror, fear and darkness. Evil dead. Evil dead. Voice

Adolescent deflowered and defiled. Butchered innocence - a childhood denied. Raped and tortured as the clergymen smiled. In the name of god victimized

You're a worthless creature born just to die. There will be no mercy, so don't pray for your life. Your torso mutilated beyond recognition. To see you

me leave this body far away I'm sick of looking at me I hate this painful body that disease has slowly worm away Magician take my spirit inside I'm