He has spoken Rise not falter Scythe must cut them down They are nothing Herds of fodder Simple pawns of death’s cold sermon I climb the stairs I scale the walls Pry open doors I feel their breathing Weave amongst them unrelenting Con them as their own Darkened spaces Ritual graves Simple pawns of death’s cold sermon To take the knife to empty souls This hymn of blood I feel their breathing All led up to this Boundaries cease to exist Slave brandish the whip Master forced to submit All led up to this Womb untimely ripped Slave brandish the whip Master forced to submitTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
