Eins, zwei, drei, vier! Jesus Hitler! Adolf Christ! Is this the Second Coming? Or the Fourth Reich? His mother, a nun, raped by a Nazi At the end of the Second Great War Gave birth to a son who would change the future For better or worse? He's not sure I am what should never have been The ultimate abomination! Have I returned to save the Jews? Or to destroy them? Hear thee, my fellow Nazolics! Come, join the Neo-theofascists! Keep the race pure, practice eugenics! And swear to the holy swazafix Jesus Hitler! Adolf Christ! Is this the Second Coming? Or the Fourth Reich? I have returned! Schweinhund! Reich und Roll! Achtung! Jesus Hitler! Adolf Christ! Is this the Second Coming? Or the Fourth Reich? Hess to my left, and Peter on right Will it be war or peace? Totalitarian on His throne of blood Commands both man and beast A pair of souls, trapped in the body of one Both prisoners of reincarnation Torn between good and evil I have returned for salva... elimination! Hear thee, my fellow Nazolics! Come, join the Neo-theofascists! Keep the race pure, practice eugenics! And swear to the holy swazafix

Bêlit: Conan, do you fear the gods?" Conan: "I would not tread on their shadow, Some gods are strong to harm, others, to aid; at least so say their priests. Mitra of the Hyborians must be a strong god, because his people have builded their cities over the world. But even the Hyborians fear Set. And Bel, god of thieves, is a good god. When I was a thief in Zamora I learned of him." Bêlit: "What of your own gods? I have never heard you call on them." Conan: "Their chief is Crom. He dwells on a great mountain. What use to call on him? Little he cares if men live or die. Better to be silent than to call his attention to you, he will send you dooms, not fortune! He is grim and loveless, but at birth he breathes power to strive and slay into a man's soul. What else shall men ask of the gods?" Bêlit: "But what of the worlds beyond the river of death?" Conan: "There is no hope here or hereafter in the cult of my people, In this world men struggle and suffer vainly, finding pleasure only in the bright madness of battle; dying, their souls enter a gray misty realm of clouds and icy winds, to wander cheerlessly throughout eternity." Bêlit: "Life, bad as it is, is better than such a destiny. What do you believe, Conan? Conan: "I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls of the Nordheimer's Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and am content."