Testo di 'Killing Season' di Thy Art Is Murder

Open their throats and drink of the sickness (sickness)
A plague engrained in flesh
Horrid creatures, deserving of a thousand deaths

Master of the harvest
Servant of the carcass
The sacramental wine that drowns the earth in darkness

Heirs of hatred
Hoards of gluttons
The thirst is calling
Winter is falling
On a world that's bleached of the truth
The doctrines of hate burning through you
Torn, limb from limb
The sadists swim in the blood of the innocent

Open their throats
And drink of the sickness
Open their throats
And drink of the sickness

The fires in the east
Smother the air of the soul
As they march down trails of tears to worlds below
Empires of rust
Upon the graves where sorrow grows
Hopeless void
Endless cycles

Haunting seas of violent swells
The ghosts of guilt descend to hell
Return to suffer anew
The pendulum falls
The noose swings for you
The noose swings for you

The wound is permanent
We hold the knife that twists forever
The hand that feeds you is the hand that fucking bleeds you

This is the Killing Season
Killing Season

Failures of the father
Sacred sons of horror
A legal legacy embedded into sin and slaughter

Heirs of hatred
Hoards of Gluttons
The thirst is calling
Winter is falling
On a world that's bleached of the truth
The doctrines of hate burning through you
Torn, limb from limb
The sadists swim in the blood of the innocent

Their pain will be infinite
Hunt the ones that run
This is the Killing Season

Hunt
Hunt the ones that run
This is the Killing Season