Paroles de Of The Tormented And Sick

The waters crash ashore And sweep across the land Every attempt to inhale Is a gargled breath The darkening skies Every gust of wind A swing of the reapers scythe Our punishment, condemned Now bow Bow your head And bend your broken necks Over the sharpened blade Of the reapers scythe There is no blinding light No coming of thee No redemption for a life well lived Our corpses rot in line Eyes are pulled out from the head And entrails spilled to dirt Limbless, lifeless void Filled with the chaos of God, death Now bow Bow your head And bend your broken necks Over the sharpened blade Of the reapers scythe The pathetic human horde Is struck down by the mighty sword And the air is filled with the anguished screams Of the tormented and sick You vile worthless rotten things You've been severed from your angel wings And fell from the grace of heaven Straight into your graves