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Morbid Angel, "God of Emptiness"
Rice, and you fill the sauce
With all the peppers of this world
And all the grains you will steam
So what makes your soup cream?
Rice, and the pot is boiling
Lies - and you fill their souls
With all oppressions of this world
And all the glory you receive
So, what makes you supreme?
Lies - and your crown is falling
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