Hang Them High - Abysmal Torment

Their futile sobbing worse than a child’s cry

When they’re reaped by Saturn’s lead scythe

Past, present, future, fruitless absent might

Their end is nigh to hang them high

Their age of madness is duly over

Deceitful of archaic mode of taught

Fear, guild and self-loathe all it’s brought

Their end is night to hang them high

Their futile sobbing worse than a child’s cry

When they’re reaped by Saturn’s lead scythe

Past, present, future, fruitless absent might

Their end is nigh to hang them high

Hang doom prophets from their lofty towers

Hang gold-hoarding death-dealers of Babylon

Hang child-defiling high priests of Rome

Hang sly statesman from highest flagpoles

Hang them high

Watch them die

Times are ripe for butchering cattle

Should you choose your own demise

These are those who will sell it to you

At a price for all to consume and die

Hang blue bloods from their royal family trees

Hang cultist overlords from their ziggurats

Hang islam’s insane caliphs from minarets

Hang crooked zionists from the wailing wall

Heed the pristine law

Their souls begin to fray

Sacrifice cultist of old

Under the law of the bold