End up in its hall
My blood goes to work
I hear the howl
There is a grove of bleached bones
Where lupins vomit children's 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, yeah
There is a grove of tortured forms
Where all is dark and deeds are foul
And those who ignore
And those who pretend
That the howl is a joke
Their children lie dead
My blood goes to work
I hear the howl
And then my blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
(There is a human slaughterhouse
Up on the hill
The road is red)
And then my blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
(And those who ignore
And those who pretend
It does not exist
End up in its hall)
And then my blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
Blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
Blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
Blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
And then my blood just goes to work
And then I hear the howl
