Thy Art Is Murder Killing Season
Open their throats and drink of the sickness
A plague engrained in flesh
Horrid creatures, deserving of a thousand deaths
Master of the harvest
Servant of the carcass
The sacramental wine that drowns the earth in darkness
Heirs of hatred
Hoards of gluttons
The thirst is calling
Winter is falling
On a world that's bleached of the truth
The doctrines of hate burning through you
Torn limb from limb
The sadists swim in the blood of the innocent
Open their throats
And drink of the sickness
Open their throats
And drink of the sickness
The fires in the east
Smother the air of the soul
As they march down trails of tears to worlds below
Empires of rust
Upon the graves where sorrow grows
Hopeless void
Endless cycles
Haunting seas of violent swells
The ghosts of guilt descend to Hell
Return to suffer anew
The pendulum falls
The noose swings for you
The noose swings for you
The wound is permanent
We hold the knife that twists forever
The hand that feeds you is the hand that f..cking bleeds you
This is the killing season
Killing season
Failures of the father
Sacred sons of horror
A lethal legacy embedded into sin and slaughter
Heirs of hatred
Hoards of gluttons
The thirst is calling
Winter is falling
On a world that's bleached of the truth
The doctrines of hate burning through you
Torn limb from limb
The sadists swim in the blood of the innocent
Their pain will be infinite
Hunt the ones that run
This is the killing season
Hunt
Hunt the ones that run
This is the killing season
