Ancient Rites Cain текст песни, слова песни Cain Ancient Rites
Ancient Rites - Cain
How can my father turn to a God
Who creates everything to die?
I feel deceived, rejected...
How can one pray?
All so useless, senseless, cruel...
Then I prefer to turn away
Then I prefer to turn away
From your God who can't be mine
Who can't be mine...
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