Hate Cult Ritual

Whitechapel

Compositor: Não Disponível

We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder

Moonlight stabs through the cross
For Helios, he lies with a spear through his neck
Our Mother Earth's foundation in knots
As she bears the new lord like a miserable wretch
Raef eht raeps fo Reficul
Ti llahs ecreip, ti llahs elbmurc eht sllaw fo esidarap
We are disciples of hate, rage and murder

Like a fever that plagued the dark ages
We swelter with rage, the madness contagious
Fucked through the forsaken black hole by his blade
A once finite reach, now infinite as it punctures beyond the sun

Rivers of wine tainted by the mother's disease-ridden cavern
Into the night we dine and worship our lord, whom we've yearned

We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder
Let the rage flow through us

Oh, how the wicked have risen
Overwhelming numbers, the seas begin to overflow
Valleys cave in from the thundering quake of our march
Mountains implode leaving nothing but its deep basin
Blemished by a crimson haze from the sacred blood that we bathe in
Mock the holy water, purity stripped from his only daughter
The whore, Mother Earth, fucked

We are the ones from below
We are cancer that feeds on the soul
Subterranean, blasphemous sons of the one that we worship
We mock, burn and spit on the cross
Burn and spit on the cross

Markings carved in flesh and bone of your carcass
Left to warn them of our future targets
The cold wind carries sacrilegious scriptures
Whispering in the ears of eternity

We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer
We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder

Mock, burn, spit on the cross
Mock, burn, spit on the cross
Mock, burn, spit on the cross
Mock, burn, spit on the cross