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