Post Mortem - Waiting For The Funeral | Текст песни

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• Post Mortem
• Waiting For The Funeral

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I Feel The Surge Of Power As I Crush The Mighty Blow
Intestines Spew From Open Wounds As I Let My Anger Go
Liquid Red Engulfes The Street As I Stare With Vengeful Eyes
Sinister Flames Entrap My Brain, I Keep Wishing He Would Die

He Jerks With Spasms Erratically As Death Will Take Its Toll
Wicked Thoughts Upon My Brain For Now I've Got His Soul

Waiting For The Funeral, Torturing The Weakened Minds
Watching The Death Parade, In Blood His Name Was Signed

Crying Widow Mourns The Altar, The Coffin Dorr Is Closed
The Mutilated Corpse Grows Stagnant, The Maggots Begin To Unfold
I Spit Upon The Grievance Flowers And Mock The Preacher's Words
The Last Rites Of The Dead Man Never Shall Be Heard

In My Hand His Soul I Keep And Through The Gates He'll Stay
Down Into The Pit Of Fire To He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named