I'm the slaughter, I'm the beast
With the rise of moon I go
To the fields on the feast
Cruelly shooting my flame-thrower
Burn the bodies, Take the life's
With the smell of rusty bones
I enjoy their poor cries
Crushing heads with heavy stones
Who were that people?
I don't know
Now it's a bloody
BIOMASS
I need nothing, I want deaths
It's my job to paint scenes
Of artistic bloody mess
How much for me it means
Cut the fingers, smash the face
Place the parts on pentagram
Make inside it burning haze
That will be my future theme
What for I killed them
I don't know
But it's a pretty
BIOMASS