Bitter Harvest - Primordial

A moment of clarity

It spoke to me in tongues

It spoke to me of ruin

Of destitution, and of pain

Where night, it never ever

Seems to come

To ease the misery of the day

Degenerate whores

Expose their stinking wares

To a foul race of man…

Whores for all…, in time

Death soon shall bind

These soul less froms of men

To the dead of their kind

To live all their lives again

They would die in the very

Same way…

Clinging to a profane hope that

A place beyond the grave

May repay their suffering

And their pain

In a way that no whore could ever ease

The misery of the day…