Azrael

Turn the spit

Biting back as I incinerate

Incinerate

A coward has no identity without an enemy

How sick it is to tolerate the intolerant

Under a cross and the banner of eternal heaven

Just another good

Just another good American

I'd rather die in vain

Than sing the hymns of a hollow hearted generation

Cast into the lake of fire

The 4th angel poured blood on the sun

But never washed away the damage done

But never washed away the damage fucking done

Our stomachs are empty while their mouths are fucking full

I want more

I want more

I want more

Sit them on a throne of gold to teach us songs of rhetoric

Chain me to tradition

Hand in hand with the heretic

The heretic

The heretic