The blow of the wind that erase your prays It brings the dust of a perverse thought I prefer to die in free will Instead to drown in rotten lamentations Tear the pages of your fears Become your own thought Headed to the power I went down Because of the envy of those that preach the misfortune Sometimes I can feel that your disillusions make me stronger I am conceived by the blasphemy Conceived by inhuman blood The reading of the filthy book Can blind a true thought Your blind hand can't discern an act of freedom I suffer the anguish for the wisdom I take with me a revenge traced by hate Heading to dominate I destroy the stones in my road Fear my acts if you are still alive Then you will see my immortal victory And you will die rusted for the envy I am conceived by the blasphemy Conceived by inhuman blood