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.