O'cometh torture, O'cometh death

O'cometh through those billowing empty shrouds
Those delights that steel the very soul of purity
Let us grasp the mere essence of what tis be yesterday
And strangle it dear till the past is without sheer breath
May those ugly morsels dance into their depths
Let us stand up on thythe and plead them to weap
We'll catch every tear, every whisper, every shudder
May you lord watch as the children suffer
No Mercy
No heart
No soul
Remember those sins you forged
For be that demon who stole your sole
He has nothing to give, and nothing to gain
Now listen the venturing public
Let this be no more
But the end