The Seventh Circle

This is the price
Of which waivers a soul
An undead army
Doomed to wage an endless war
My passions summoned from a place of torment
My horns rose in a cruel curve
Soon to become
The abomination I have only wished for
Leading an army
As this curse it flows

Now see the power
Inflicted by fear
A hatred harboured
From the depths of hell
A cloak stained red
A stature so bold
This cauldron boils
Full of souls of triumphed fools

Bending no knee
Going straight for the throat
On his face wearing
A human fucking skull
It will be no effort
Mutilating while making
Corpse after corpse
It is a pleasure for which I've

Sacrificed now known as this
Monstrosity
The question of what I have become
Will never be clear

Hands stained red
Scorching eyes
Full of hate
There is no rest living for death
Now I live
And I breath for breaking necks
Don't be next I am running
Short on sympathy
This is the price at which waivers a soul

To commit acts of cruelty and malice
Unholy but human form
Bearing only the coldest
Demeanour
Acts of deceit and chaos
No place could be so vile
Than being another
On the pile of
Rotten flesh turning to sludge



Credits
Writer(s): Jacob Cooledge
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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