Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
there is a human slaughterhouse up on the hill the road is red and those who ignore and thoe who pretend it does not exist end up in it's hull my blood goes to work i hear the howl there is a grove of bleached bones where lupins vomit childrens limbs taking all their liberties with parts of human anatomy and in the hollow of a restless soul lies no remorse and no disgust every kill is clean and pure every thought is cleansed in growls there is a grove of tortured forms where all is dark and deeds are foul and those who ignore and thoes who pretend that the howl is a joke their children lie dead |