In the gothic splendor of the chapel of St. Wenceslaus Golden door with seven locks Seven keys within your hand Ancient crown of Behemia placed upon your head Sharpening your spears The hangmans disciple, vomiting forth death Murderous power, radiate hate, harbinger of suffering The malignance of maledomance rises beyond benevolence Smite your foes that they may die Splattering blood across the sky Architect of genocide, by death taking pride The shape of things to come The shape of things to come The shape of things to come The shape of things to come Thousand-eyed angel of death, armed with flaming sword Spread your wings, let the killing begin The hunter becomes the hunted, hangmen also die Morning red, morning red shines us to soon be dead Retaliating from beyond, killing, blood spilling Wade through carnage Seas of blood Seas of blood Morning red Seas of blood
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 21:48:12 +0000
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