The tongues of a thousand tiny blue-red flames
Coughing our souls to heaven
In the heat the dead stir one last time
A foul, filthy death is mine.

You don’t have to die to walk in hell,
For here is hell,
You don’t have to die to walk in hell,
And hell is now,

You don’t have to die to walk in hell
No time to grieve, no time to weep,
You don’t have to die to walk in hell
Just time to die, just time to die.
You don’t have to die to walk in hell
Drag the dead, abomination, rake the ash, my remains
Pull the teeth, a golden calf, cut the hair, humiliation
Frail and wasted human forms, wishing you were never born
Welcome to the roaring gales of gloom

Burn the flesh, cremation, find the gold, stolen lives
Chains of clay, shrines of sod, we are dead, where was god?
Skin is cold, godless, young and old, forgotten
No more tears, suffering, wasted years, entombed.

Frail and wasted human forms, wishing you were never born
Welcome to the roaring gales of gloom

Ten strokes of filth from the slaughterhouse whip
Death bound we fall in pits of shit
Sacrifice, walking dead, infanticide, abandoned
Open greave, waste away, human plague, abomination.

The smoke rises up into the clouds, looming above the funeral shrouds
Veiled from the icy moonless night, are glowing embers of flesh so bright
The stars bedimmed in darkly woe, enshrining all in hell below.