Rap†ure

Through seven sins we claim this land Through four horsemen we purge the damned Let stars and stripes serve shadow's might Let liberty bow to chosen's right For this nation was meant for few The worthy ones, the darkly true Each pledge becomes a curse divine Each freedom lost to judgment's shrine Let patriot's pride serve darker needs Let sacred soil feed shadow's seeds Until America itself Becomes what Morning Star decreed: A kingdom built on righteous greed

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