Wrath Of Mine

There is a primal instinct that can not be tamed There is a destructive power that can not be named I wallow in my filth and treasure the stains Branded by the blood in my veins Hate and rade Will not be buried in time Death is certain So is the wrath of mine There is a primal instinct that can not be tamed There is a destructive power that can not be named An everlasting hatred That can not be reduced or taken away There are no limits for its desire The wrath sustains Scavengers, luders and fools My inspiration and my tools Without these empty souls My wrath would not unfold