Funeral Pyre

Driven on instinct and the will to survive, heading for doomsday, the axe and the knife Keep swinging and stabbing, whatever suits best, the blood on my hands, the hole in your chest A penance for sinners, the thrill of the kill I feed on their screams and the blood I have spilled The martyrs are lined up, the beauty of death Tonight on display, desert sands of red All the cleansing fires, of a thousand funeral pyres We celebrate your birth on this open grave called earth The spineless, the worthless, I conquer them all, my hunger for power is consuming me whole The spineless, the worthless, I conquer them all, my hunger for power is consuming me whole