At the Cauldron's Bottom - Full of Hell

God gave you the spirit of fear

Bound you soundly to the trunk of the world

It’s a rudiment of your mutilation

An ancient relic in your failing heart

Illogical horror

Massive hemorrhage

Harmonic silence

Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching

The wound of wounds

In the heart’s clutch, held withstanding

Trumpeting ecstasy

Trumpeting ecstasy

Trumpeting ecstasy

Trumpeting ecstasy

But God gave you the spirit of fear!

Bound you tightly to the trunk of this Earth

It’s a rudiment of your mutilation

A broken trinket in your ailing mind

Illogical horror

Trumpets blaring

Massive hemorrhage

Harmonic silence

Tepid muddied fountain swallows us with the rest of the dregs

At the cauldron’s bottom, within the black vault

In an endless sea of black rote, we’ve lost, we’ve lost

Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching

The wound of wounds

We’ve lost, we’re losing

When the trumpet sounds in ecstasy

The wound of wounds

We’ve lost, we’re losing