Funeral Pyre

Horror, horror-struck faces of the dead

Carved, carved like stone in my head

Twisted, twisted-mouths silently scream

Haunt me, haunt me each night in my dreams

So sickeningly sweet, the smell of death

So thick on your tongue choking your breath

Bear witness to slaughter, bathed deep in gore

The Grim Reaper's the sole victor in war

See how they burn, bodies piled high on funeral pyres to never return

Stack the bodies, pile them higher, See how they burn

Flames fed by political liars without concern

Stoking the flames, they feed the fires

So sickeningly sweet, the smell of death

So thick on your tongue it chokes your breath

Bear witness to slaughter, bathed deep in gore

The Grim Reaper's the sole victor in war

Angel of death, the beholder of all

Curse, the flames, as the bodies fall

Fall, into Hell, it's a Devil-spawned game

To another victim, the Grim Reaper lays claim