Feast Of The Dead

Inhumane

Compositor: Não Disponível

Apocalyptic aligning planets
Form a line with the gates of hell
The soil it turns as they break loose
From the grave they follow the smell

Covered in the stench of death
The smell of the living is what attracts
They feel the need on flesh they feed
Taste our flesh and feel relief

Zombies, they feed on flesh
Walk all night to seek fresh death
Sniff around, smell out flesh
Chase down, eat what they catch

Darkness falls as they awake
Your life and flesh they will take
Young or old flesh they crave
At break of dawn, return to grave

Flesh eaters from the grave
From the other side they come
Unholy terror they will reign
Smell of flesh drives them insane

Feast of the dead, eat you're flesh
Stench of death, with last breath.