| Song | The Final Words |
| Artist | The Crimson Armada |
| Album | Guardians |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Crimson Armada | |
| Lo and behold! | |
| They preach servility, the conformed way of breathing. | |
| (They speak in the same tongues everyday.) | |
| Betwixt fear I smelt a carcass bathed of sin. | |
| The carrion swarm will love us for this one. | |
| Our only curse is the disgusting rotting urge. | |
| To feed our ears with the devils piss. | |
| Loyal and servile we kneel before his fallen throne. | |
| Let us try recite once, before we rot and burn. | |
| Master almighty, my light, separate my sinful spine. | |
| "Bow your heads, to the sound of creation. To the giver and taker of life." | |
| Swallow the sand and let it drown your insides. | |
| This must be cleansing. | |
| Cleansing for the constant current of whispers. | |
| In the eyes of every second there is the warm breath of his lowness. | |
| Temptation is our common blood as it runs free through the brain of every human skull. Our fragile spines are so very weak. | |
| We fracture to the calls of six fingers, eyes and feet. | |
| Now I see what we've come to spectate today: To pit the flesh on our back against nerves will never hold our will. | |
| They won't give in. | |
| They won't give in until we've surrendered. | |
| They won't give in. | |
| The signals deep beneath my feet preach past the beat and rest beneath. | |
| The martyrs call but we bind the lock and heave. | |
| And now we've fallen from such monumental height | |
| unto the grounds of summoning fear. | |
| So perfectly measured, calculated every deed. | |
| The books of his back hands march to the path of transcribed disease. | |
| I've given up. | |
| And the world has given in. | |
| When there is nothing left of earth, recite the final words. | |
| Recite the final words. | |
| "Mother abysmal can you mask my life's obscenities? | |
| The sky has spoken. | |
| I'm in contempt up to my ears, mother. | |
| Cry every unbirthed captive wolf. | |
| The scale is now my master. Respond only to his voice" | |
| Respond only to His voice. | |
| They won't give in until we've surrendered. |
| zuo qu : Crimson Armada | |
| Lo and behold! | |
| They preach servility, the conformed way of breathing. | |
| They speak in the same tongues everyday. | |
| Betwixt fear I smelt a carcass bathed of sin. | |
| The carrion swarm will love us for this one. | |
| Our only curse is the disgusting rotting urge. | |
| To feed our ears with the devils piss. | |
| Loyal and servile we kneel before his fallen throne. | |
| Let us try recite once, before we rot and burn. | |
| Master almighty, my light, separate my sinful spine. | |
| " Bow your heads, to the sound of creation. To the giver and taker of life." | |
| Swallow the sand and let it drown your insides. | |
| This must be cleansing. | |
| Cleansing for the constant current of whispers. | |
| In the eyes of every second there is the warm breath of his lowness. | |
| Temptation is our common blood as it runs free through the brain of every human skull. Our fragile spines are so very weak. | |
| We fracture to the calls of six fingers, eyes and feet. | |
| Now I see what we' ve come to spectate today: To pit the flesh on our back against nerves will never hold our will. | |
| They won' t give in. | |
| They won' t give in until we' ve surrendered. | |
| They won' t give in. | |
| The signals deep beneath my feet preach past the beat and rest beneath. | |
| The martyrs call but we bind the lock and heave. | |
| And now we' ve fallen from such monumental height | |
| unto the grounds of summoning fear. | |
| So perfectly measured, calculated every deed. | |
| The books of his back hands march to the path of transcribed disease. | |
| I' ve given up. | |
| And the world has given in. | |
| When there is nothing left of earth, recite the final words. | |
| Recite the final words. | |
| " Mother abysmal can you mask my life' s obscenities? | |
| The sky has spoken. | |
| I' m in contempt up to my ears, mother. | |
| Cry every unbirthed captive wolf. | |
| The scale is now my master. Respond only to his voice" | |
| Respond only to His voice. | |
| They won' t give in until we' ve surrendered. |
| zuò qǔ : Crimson Armada | |
| Lo and behold! | |
| They preach servility, the conformed way of breathing. | |
| They speak in the same tongues everyday. | |
| Betwixt fear I smelt a carcass bathed of sin. | |
| The carrion swarm will love us for this one. | |
| Our only curse is the disgusting rotting urge. | |
| To feed our ears with the devils piss. | |
| Loyal and servile we kneel before his fallen throne. | |
| Let us try recite once, before we rot and burn. | |
| Master almighty, my light, separate my sinful spine. | |
| " Bow your heads, to the sound of creation. To the giver and taker of life." | |
| Swallow the sand and let it drown your insides. | |
| This must be cleansing. | |
| Cleansing for the constant current of whispers. | |
| In the eyes of every second there is the warm breath of his lowness. | |
| Temptation is our common blood as it runs free through the brain of every human skull. Our fragile spines are so very weak. | |
| We fracture to the calls of six fingers, eyes and feet. | |
| Now I see what we' ve come to spectate today: To pit the flesh on our back against nerves will never hold our will. | |
| They won' t give in. | |
| They won' t give in until we' ve surrendered. | |
| They won' t give in. | |
| The signals deep beneath my feet preach past the beat and rest beneath. | |
| The martyrs call but we bind the lock and heave. | |
| And now we' ve fallen from such monumental height | |
| unto the grounds of summoning fear. | |
| So perfectly measured, calculated every deed. | |
| The books of his back hands march to the path of transcribed disease. | |
| I' ve given up. | |
| And the world has given in. | |
| When there is nothing left of earth, recite the final words. | |
| Recite the final words. | |
| " Mother abysmal can you mask my life' s obscenities? | |
| The sky has spoken. | |
| I' m in contempt up to my ears, mother. | |
| Cry every unbirthed captive wolf. | |
| The scale is now my master. Respond only to his voice" | |
| Respond only to His voice. | |
| They won' t give in until we' ve surrendered. |