Whitechapel

Hate Cult Ritual
We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder Moonlight stabs through the cross For Helios, he lies with a spear through his neck Our Mother Earth's foundation in knots As she bears the new lord like a miserable wretch Raef eht raeps fo Reficul Ti llahs ecreip, ti llahs elbmurc eht sllaw fo esidarap We are disciples of hate, rage and murder Like a fever that plagued the dark ages We swelter with rage, the madness contagious Fucked through the forsaken black hole by his blade A once finite reach, now infinite as it punctures beyond the sun Rivers of wine tainted by the mother's disease-ridden cavern Into the night we dine and worship our lord, whom we've yearned We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder Let the rage flow through us Letras de canciones Oh, how the wicked have risen Overwhelming numbers, the seas begin to overflow Valleys cave in from the thundering quake of our march Mountains implode leaving nothing but its deep basin Blemished by a crimson haze from the sacred blood that we bathe in Mock the holy water, purity stripped from his only daughter The whore, Mother Earth, fucked We are the ones from below We are cancer that feeds on the soul Subterranean, blasphemous sons of the one that we worship We mock, burn and spit on the cross Burn and spit on the cross Markings carved in flesh and bone of your carcass Left to warn them of our future targets The cold wind carries sacrilegious scriptures Whispering in the ears of eternity We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We hunt, we kill, we feast, we conquer We are disciples of hate, rage, and murder Mock, burn, spit on the cross Mock, burn, spit on the cross Mock, burn, spit on the cross Mock, burn, spit on the cross From Letras Mania