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Angelic demons Loaded with hives Of violence and blood A rash of tribes Infected Dissected Inflected with sin Built to lose Broken to win God is with us In the end To the darkness We descend This job is not ours We did it for hours Brick by brick We built a wall And then the third took a fall We were on the rack Never going back On the rack Never going back Exit hell Don't pass go Paid in blood Real slow We saw red Thousands dead Needed a sacrifice Something to gain So they wouldn't be in pain We fought in vain Nothing but vanity Murderous sanity Forgive me father For diminishing this sanctity That you helped create They pricked our lips I poisoned the state This fear means they won Every victory They gain unamerican sone They are on the rack We are back On the rack We are back Back to hell Where the blood swells With good intentions And no dissension Security not guaranteed If we are freed We have no hope no will Just buckets of pain and swill Don't fight for the right Fight for the pain Fight for the fallen and the slain Send them in pieces to their maker Until you to are a husk A baker Of suffering and pain Of bodies lain Down in the name of hate Our appetites will not sate We will not satisfy Until that desert is spread Over the whole globe We will only testify Of the strobe Of ashes and ashes Dust to dust These beliefs we once held Sharpened with rust Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down
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Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
The Unholy Sorts of Angels
Angelic demons Loaded with hives Of violence and blood A rash of tribes Infected Dissected Inflected with sin Built to lose Broken to win God is with us In the end To the darkness We descend This job is not ours We did it for hours Brick by brick We built a wall And then the third took a fall We were on the rack Never going back On the rack Never going back Exit hell Don't pass go Paid in blood Real slow We saw red Thousands dead Needed a sacrifice Something to gain So they wouldn't be in pain We fought in vain Nothing but vanity Murderous sanity Forgive me father For diminishing this sanctity That you helped create They pricked our lips I poisoned the state This fear means they won Every victory They gain unamerican sone They are on the rack We are back On the rack We are back Back to hell Where the blood swells With good intentions And no dissension Security not guaranteed If we are freed We have no hope no will Just buckets of pain and swill Don't fight for the right Fight for the pain Fight for the fallen and the slain Send them in pieces to their maker Until you to are a husk A baker Of suffering and pain Of bodies lain Down in the name of hate Our appetites will not sate We will not satisfy Until that desert is spread Over the whole globe We will only testify Of the strobe Of ashes and ashes Dust to dust These beliefs we once held Sharpened with rust Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down Burn it down
What do you get when you mix Supernatural, heavy mithril and punk political attitudes?
papa-ghost
Written by
papa-ghost
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
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