Thyrane

You, beacon of sanctimonious righteousness, consolation prize for vulnerable souls.
Primordial vengeance you shall feel, at the end of your days.
The only warmth will be hellfire's sweet blaze.
We'll pull you to insane shadows, beyond the wall of sleep.
We'll decorate your soul and spirit, by the satanic torment against the lamenting sheep.
In the deepest caverns within mind, dwells the subliminal need to convert the sheeps.
Deprivation of emotion, with knife, conversion leading to suicide.
It's raining blood in heaven on the day of doom,
scent of innocence turns to reek of putrefaction.