Christ is Dead
de Crypt Sermon
Left all alone with my thoughts, madness abounds me
These timeworn hills endless roll, no walls that surround me
No roof overhead, the sun and the says
A sermon from depths of the stone, the ancient of days
These dreams haunt me
As the ossuary overflows
Ceaseless whispers
Of a voice calling out from far below
The will of the ancient call
The ties that bind
The will of the ancient call
Runs through my bloodline
All these walls seem to speak, echoes ring from beneath
Awaiting death's final call, the sweet release
These dreams haunt me
A sacrifice the voice commands
Ceaseless whispers
The blood of my child on my hands
The will of the ancient call
The ties that bind
The will of the ancient call
Runs through my bloodline
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