| Not a spirit who hides in the day
|
| Not an eruption that will not or may
|
| It’s a wrecking ball of death and completely without fear
|
| No conscience, fear, or heart
|
| Doesn’t think about an end or start
|
| Tear the world apart not to see what’s deep inside
|
| Not a friend to call, not a savior at all
|
| Not a place to run and hide
|
| No way to stop, no way on top
|
| Stay out of sight and prepare to die
|
| Prepare for the chaos
|
| Prepare to die
|
| Once every thousand years or so the beast gets hungry
|
| And the pain inside that wakes him makes him angry
|
| There’s not enough food in sight
|
| So he’ll start to roam the Earth tonight
|
| And the path of death he leaves will feed the hunger
|
| Won’t pick you out of a crowd
|
| Doesn’t care if you’re calm or loud
|
| It’s a living, eating, breathing storm of death
|
| No agenda, no favorite meal
|
| He’s the real motherfuckin' deal
|
| He’s only awake to eat and he eats it all
|
| Not a friend to call, not a savior at all
|
| Not a place to run and hide
|
| No way to stop, no way on top
|
| Stay out of sight and prepare to die
|
| Prepare for the chaos
|
| Prepare to die
|
| Once every thousand years or so the beast gets hungry
|
| And the pain inside that wakes him makes him angry
|
| There’s not enough food in sight
|
| So he’ll start to roam the Earth tonight
|
| And the path of death he leaves will feed the hunger
|
| Prepare for the chaos
|
| Prepare to die
|
| Once every thousand years or so the beast gets hungry
|
| And the pain inside that wakes him makes him angry
|
| There’s not enough food in sight
|
| So he’ll start to roam the Earth tonight
|
| And the path of death he leaves will feed the hunger |