Killing Season - Thy Art Is Murder

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 to 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

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 fucking 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