Incinerator - Soul Remnants

Cold breath, dark shape, stitched on mask of charred skin

Corpses by the gate, the molten mouth of the furnace waits

War is every god’s tradition, murder for your religion

Call for war, profits begin, cast the poor down into the fire

Skies light up, people transform, only one way to survive

Feed your mind to the hate

Calling out, souls burn, it inhales, and grows from the taste

Kill yourself for false kings, sacrifice your control

Repeat mistakes of their past

As they profit from your death

Warring is one way, to keep the mind controlled

Liquidate the conscious, profit’s only obstacle

War is your religion, hell on earth is your tradition

Call the war profits begin, cast the poor down into the fire

War is every god’s tradition, murder for your religion

Call for war, profits begin, cast the poor down into the fire