| Moving through the cover of night
|
| With battle hardened hate in their eyes
|
| Anticipate the surgical strike
|
| Unsuspecting victims
|
| Will suffer, panic stricken, traumatizing agony
|
| Violence, the purest form, a primitive trait
|
| The weak will inherit the earth pile on top of their graves
|
| Survival is slipping the attack has already begun
|
| Dominant force batter their prey, bludgeons their weapon of choice
|
| A vicious tradition since the dawn of man
|
| Traumatizing agony
|
| Murderous revelry, smashing people to pieces
|
| This kind of hate cannot be contained
|
| Those who have fallen onto the ground will never rise again
|
| Squalid and broken no match for the enemy
|
| Too weak to fight back no chance for escape
|
| Covered in their own blood
|
| The surgical strike must go on
|
| Ripping out organs they’re hung on display
|
| A message to others they’ll die the same way
|
| Covered in their own blood
|
| The surgical strike must go on
|
| Moving through the cover of night
|
| With battle hardened hate in their eyes
|
| Anticipate the surgical strike
|
| Unsuspecting victims
|
| Will suffer, panic stricken, traumatizing agony |