In a quiet village, a Red Angel blossomed.
Is it a miracle? Is it a omen?
In this village, there were no believers,
The Red Angel became a god.
Nature is beautiful, and we are born atheists.
Oh, love is pure, and we love without judgments.
Faith is blind, and justice is selective,
But it is in fear that demons are born.
In a citadel, the news arrived,
and the church does not tolerate new divinities.
The new order is to burn the Red Angel
With your worshipers in bonfires.
Nature is beautiful, and we are born atheists.
Oh, love is pure, and we love without judgments.
Faith is blind, and justice is selective,
But it is in fear that demons are born.
Look, the Red Angel rising furious.