Hymn for the Wretched - The Black Dahlia Murder

We are the blackness of the night

Cold wind that cuts your flesh

We are the enemy praying for your certain death

We are what was, will be forevermore

In the stillest hours we awaken, enshrouded in the dark

Children of the blackest seed

Reared on murder and deceit

We are the thorns of human woe

His will be done

To the humble maggots

To the putrid flies

Where death and hatred lurk

We shall survive

To the diseases

To the sharpest knives

When daybreak no more comes

We shall arise

We are the sickness, the stench of the deceased

Your father’s secret shame

Our violent wrath shall be unleashed

We feast on blood and the weakness of your kind

From the haunted depths we have arisen to slither as the snake

Children of the blackest seed

Reared on murder and deceit

We are the thorns of human woe

His will be done

To the humble maggots

To the putrid flies

Where death and hatred lurk

We shall survive

To the diseases

To the sharpest knives

When daybreak no more comes

We shall arise

Lurking legion of the obscene

Unheard forever in between

Unbound

The liars in wait

Our being you forsake

Whispers upon the winds, profane

Unheard, the wretched and the insane

Unbound, forgotten, ignored

The ugliness abhorred

The razor;

the bullet;

the length of rope

Our tools are numerous, our hatred overflows

The razor;

the bullet;

the length of rope

A lapse of sanity plummets to earth below

We are the blackness of the night

Cold wind that cuts your flesh

We are the enemy praying for your certain death

We are what was, will be forevermore

In the stillest hours we awaken, enshrouded in the dark

We are the sliver in your god’s feeble hand

During the silent hours, the shadows we command

We’re the undying insect, from the deepest cracks we came

For aeons we have lurked and for aeons we shall remain!