Let me introduce myself I'm a social disease
I've come for your wealth leave you on your knees
No time for feeling sorry, I got here on my own
I won't ask for mercy, I choose to walk alone
What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine too
If you shake my hand better count your fingers
You built walls to protect you
So no one will infect you
Pursued by those out there
That vanish in thin air
Come a long way to find
What you really left behind
You don 't know when the end is
But it 's coming fast
Slowly crossing as the river runs below
Never stopping for what's waiting soon will show
And this the last time looking back I'll see
My home for he awaits me reaching for my
soul. He calls my name, and waves me on
The fallen one he stands in flame
Well the life that he has given full of riches
And sucess has a price that I made good in
Blood to pay. And the light he now is showing
To guide my every footstep is insurance if
I falter on my way. And what God has now
Forsaken and man has never seen are the
Riches of the underworld below all my
Years of earthly pleasures gave support
Unto the bridge I now cross it giving
Him my soul
Dark Lord, I summon thee demanding the
Sacred right to burn in hell, ride up on hells
hot wind. Face one more evil than thou, take
My lustful soul,
Drink my blood as I drink yours, impale me on
the horns of death
Cut off my head release all my evil Lucifer is king
Praise Satan
I know the one who waits Satan is
His name, across the bridge of
Death there he stands in flame
I know the one who waits Satan
Is his name across the bridge of death
There he stands in flame.
He is my provider as I walk into the
Void for eternity I give him my soul
I shall do his bidding obey him
Without question even walk among the living if
I'm told
Satan don't forsake me I wait for
You to take me grant me wings and as
Your messenger I'll fly
Never stopping for what's waiting soon will show
And this the last time looking back I'll see
My home for he awaits me reaching for my
soul. He calls my name, and waves me on
The fallen one he stands in flame
Well the life that he has given full of riches
And sucess has a price that I made good in
Blood to pay. And the light he now is showing
To guide my every footstep is insurance if
I falter on my way. And what God has now
Forsaken and man has never seen are the
Riches of the underworld below all my
Years of earthly pleasures gave support
Unto the bridge I now cross it giving
Him my soul
Dark Lord, I summon thee demanding the
Sacred right to burn in hell, ride up on hells
hot wind. Face one more evil than thou, take
My lustful soul,
Drink my blood as I drink yours, impale me on
the horns of death
Cut off my head release all my evil Lucifer is king
Praise Satan
I know the one who waits Satan is
His name, across the bridge of
Death there he stands in flame
I know the one who waits Satan
Is his name across the bridge of death
There he stands in flame.
He is my provider as I walk into the
Void for eternity I give him my soul
I shall do his bidding obey him
Without question even walk among the living if
I'm told
Satan don't forsake me I wait for
You to take me grant me wings and as
Your messenger I'll fly
Once, in the land of Zimble-boo,
Where honkweed grew and brimbles flew,
There lived two fans of heavy metal
Who had a great big score to settle.
One, named Nod, was into stuff
That could never be True enough
He always said to his friend Barth,
"I do not like Amon Amarth."
Barth, instead, was just the kind
To try and have an open mind
He worshiped metal in all its forms
And any music outside the norm.
At the Frizz-Frazz Works, all day they worked
And Barth thought Nod a tiresome jerk
For from his truck, he would go get
Graveland, Darkthrone and Negură Bunget.
"I have here bootleg tapes of Mayhem,
I will not hesitate to play them.
They feature both Dead and Euronymous
You don't like these? Ha! You wuss!
Their freezing grimness frightens thee
And flays your soul and sanity.
Thou art untrue, my weak friend Barth.
That's why you like Amon Amarth."
"But Nod," Barth said, his voice a-quiver
"I have catalogs from Spinefarm and Shiver,
Necropolis and House of Kicks
Some bands have learned a few new tricks.
And while it's true these newer bands
Have killed no one by their own hands
There is no law in Zimble-boo
That says all metal must be true."
"Fuck off, you poser!" Nod exclaimed.
"May thy weak ass perish in flames!
The corporate labels are your friends,
To them you look for mindless trends.
"I will not like your Borknagar,
So please don't play it in your car,
I'd sooner hacksaw off my ear
Than listen to Dimmu Borgir
"God Dethroned just makes me laugh
Cradle of Filth incurs my wrath
And most of all, my lame friend Barth,
I do not like Amon Amarth."
"But would you like them, Nod, if soon
They did a record for Full Moon?"
"Not e'en on vinyl, you buffoon;
I would not like them on Full Moon."
"But would you like them, Nod my friend,
If they did a record for The End?"
"Those corporate followers of trend?
Not on your life. I will not bend!"
"Well, how about Necropolis?"
"On them I take a healthy piss!"
"Surely you like Misanthropy."
"You Christian tool, begone from me!
"Please do not mention Hammerheart
Those thieves of diabolic art
Your head is so far up your ass
You might as well say Nuclear Blast
"And mention not Century Media
Or else I will be forced to beat-y ya
Please, Metal Blade? Have you no balls?
Those bastards signed the Goo Goo Dolls!!"
"But Nod," Barth cried, "this band is good
They hate the Lord, just as they should
Their sound is great, which is what you get when
It's engineered by Peter Tagtgren
And though it's all been done before
It kicks much ass, you can be sure
So take it from your old friend Barth,
You'd really like Amon Amarth."
At this, Nod flew into a fit
And tore poor Barth to little bits
He murdered him with Satan's might
Then went to jail without a fight
And there, he only got to hear
What people taped for his imprisoned ear
He could not buy from catalogs
From Breath of Night or from Moonfog
No compact discs could he possess
Only dubbed tapes, to his distress
But then one day, he got a mix
From some homely Goth pen-pal chick
She taped him Emperor and Dawn
Dark Funeral and ApollyoN
She even filled all of side two
With bands like Opeth and Lilitu.
And when our Nod was forced to hear
These different bands, his pagan ear
Was startled, and his beady eyes
Did widen in complete surprise
He liked these bands! Yes, quite a bit!
It made old Darkthrone sound like shit!
It wasn't kvlt, to be quite fair
But, he realized, he didn't care!
And on the end of this cassette
One more surprise waited yet
Amon Amarth, the very band
That made Nod kill his bestest friend
The final song that was in store,
"God, His Son, and Holy Whore,"
From The Avenger, their new CD,
Came blasting out of Cell Block Three.
Why, Nod was startled and perturbed:
"Where is this place called Gothenburg?
That buzzsaw sound, these catchy songs
I could enjoy this all day long!
"I've seen the error of my ways
But who is this right now that plays?"
He checked the listing on the tape,
Then laughed and said "For goodness sake!
"Barth, had I but listened to thee
You'd be alive, and I'd be free
So hey, I owe ya one, ol Barth
I do so like Amon Amarth!"
Where honkweed grew and brimbles flew,
There lived two fans of heavy metal
Who had a great big score to settle.
One, named Nod, was into stuff
That could never be True enough
He always said to his friend Barth,
"I do not like Amon Amarth."
Barth, instead, was just the kind
To try and have an open mind
He worshiped metal in all its forms
And any music outside the norm.
At the Frizz-Frazz Works, all day they worked
And Barth thought Nod a tiresome jerk
For from his truck, he would go get
Graveland, Darkthrone and Negură Bunget.
"I have here bootleg tapes of Mayhem,
I will not hesitate to play them.
They feature both Dead and Euronymous
You don't like these? Ha! You wuss!
Their freezing grimness frightens thee
And flays your soul and sanity.
Thou art untrue, my weak friend Barth.
That's why you like Amon Amarth."
"But Nod," Barth said, his voice a-quiver
"I have catalogs from Spinefarm and Shiver,
Necropolis and House of Kicks
Some bands have learned a few new tricks.
And while it's true these newer bands
Have killed no one by their own hands
There is no law in Zimble-boo
That says all metal must be true."
"Fuck off, you poser!" Nod exclaimed.
"May thy weak ass perish in flames!
The corporate labels are your friends,
To them you look for mindless trends.
"I will not like your Borknagar,
So please don't play it in your car,
I'd sooner hacksaw off my ear
Than listen to Dimmu Borgir
"God Dethroned just makes me laugh
Cradle of Filth incurs my wrath
And most of all, my lame friend Barth,
I do not like Amon Amarth."
"But would you like them, Nod, if soon
They did a record for Full Moon?"
"Not e'en on vinyl, you buffoon;
I would not like them on Full Moon."
"But would you like them, Nod my friend,
If they did a record for The End?"
"Those corporate followers of trend?
Not on your life. I will not bend!"
"Well, how about Necropolis?"
"On them I take a healthy piss!"
"Surely you like Misanthropy."
"You Christian tool, begone from me!
"Please do not mention Hammerheart
Those thieves of diabolic art
Your head is so far up your ass
You might as well say Nuclear Blast
"And mention not Century Media
Or else I will be forced to beat-y ya
Please, Metal Blade? Have you no balls?
Those bastards signed the Goo Goo Dolls!!"
"But Nod," Barth cried, "this band is good
They hate the Lord, just as they should
Their sound is great, which is what you get when
It's engineered by Peter Tagtgren
And though it's all been done before
It kicks much ass, you can be sure
So take it from your old friend Barth,
You'd really like Amon Amarth."
At this, Nod flew into a fit
And tore poor Barth to little bits
He murdered him with Satan's might
Then went to jail without a fight
And there, he only got to hear
What people taped for his imprisoned ear
He could not buy from catalogs
From Breath of Night or from Moonfog
No compact discs could he possess
Only dubbed tapes, to his distress
But then one day, he got a mix
From some homely Goth pen-pal chick
She taped him Emperor and Dawn
Dark Funeral and ApollyoN
She even filled all of side two
With bands like Opeth and Lilitu.
And when our Nod was forced to hear
These different bands, his pagan ear
Was startled, and his beady eyes
Did widen in complete surprise
He liked these bands! Yes, quite a bit!
It made old Darkthrone sound like shit!
It wasn't kvlt, to be quite fair
But, he realized, he didn't care!
And on the end of this cassette
One more surprise waited yet
Amon Amarth, the very band
That made Nod kill his bestest friend
The final song that was in store,
"God, His Son, and Holy Whore,"
From The Avenger, their new CD,
Came blasting out of Cell Block Three.
Why, Nod was startled and perturbed:
"Where is this place called Gothenburg?
That buzzsaw sound, these catchy songs
I could enjoy this all day long!
"I've seen the error of my ways
But who is this right now that plays?"
He checked the listing on the tape,
Then laughed and said "For goodness sake!
"Barth, had I but listened to thee
You'd be alive, and I'd be free
So hey, I owe ya one, ol Barth
I do so like Amon Amarth!"
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