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The tongues of a thousand tiny blue-red flames

Coughing our souls to heaven

In the heat the dead stir one last time

A foul, filthy death is mine.

You don’t have to die to walk in hell,

For here is hell,

You don’t have to die to walk in hell,

And hell is now,

You don’t have to die to walk in hell

no time to grieve, no time to weep,

You don’t have to die to walk in hell

Just time to die, just time to die.

You don’t have to die to walk in hell

Drag the dead, abomination, Rake the ash, my remains

Pull the teeth, a golden calf, Cut the hair, humiliation

Frail and wasted human forms,  Wishing you were never born

Welcome to the roaring gales of gloom

Burn the flesh, cremation, Find the gold, stolen lives

Chains of clay, shrines of sod, we are dead, where was god?

Skin is cold, godless, young and old, forgotten

No more tears, suffering, wasted years, entombed.

Frail and wasted human forms, wishing you were never born

Welcome to the roaring gales of gloom

Ten strokes of filth from the slaughterhouse whip

Death bound we fall in pits of shit

Sacrifice, walking dead, infanticide, abandoned

Open greave, waste away, human plague, abomination.

The smoke rises up into the clouds, Looming above the funeral shrouds

Veiled from the icy moonless night, Are glowing embers of flesh so bright

The stars bedimmed in darkly woe, Enshrining all in hell below.