By Yasen Vedrin
(The Rise of the Fall)
Do not look on with angry eyes
At the elite that knows no law.
All other bandits shrink in size
Before the master bandit's claw.
No mortal flesh can push his space,
No speeding bullet pierces through.
He acts from his dark, evil place,
Upon a throne of crime anew.
Within his hand, the kings are pawns.
All wars are earthly vanity.
He snaps humanity like thorns
When driving them to death's decree.
Dressed in a mantle of deceit,
He has a grand repertoire to show.
As Temple angel, pure and sweet,
Or spins just like a die below.
With power held through thousand years,
He builds his pressure on our clay.
He rules with armies full of jeers
To throw all human souls away.
He purchases consciences and thrones.
He trades in secrets of deep sin.
He plays foul parts in filthy zones
And calls himself a saint within.
But in his nature there remains
A ultimate weakness, a fierce dread,
For he's a snake in fragile chains,
Once Jesus' Holy Name is said…
And when the Sword strikes through his space,
Polished with Justice – Sacred, bright,
He falls upon his knees in disgrace,
Just like a rag, stripped of his might.
And let the Faithful know and see
That God has sent the Spirit's Gift,
From Which in darkness weeps in knee
The beast accursed, with no uplift.
All other bandits shrink in size
Before the master bandit's claw,
But Holiness stands past the skies,
And there's a Sword of fearsome law.
If you swing it with Faith in Christ,
You pierce the gloom and shadows gray,
And like a shadow sacrificed,
The bandit Satan fades away.
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