Wrath of Mine

There is a primal instinct that can not be tamed

There is a destructive power that can not be named

I wallow in my filth and treasure the stains

Branded by the blood in my veins

Hate and rade

Will not be buried in time

Death is certain

So is the wrath of mine

There is a primal instinct that can not be tamed

There is a destructive power that can not be named

An everlasting hatred

That can not be reduced or taken away

There are no limits for its desire

The wrath sustains

Scavengers, luders and fools

My inspiration and my tools

Without these empty souls

My wrath would not unfold