Menstrual Gourmet - Extirpating the Infected

Awake!

Sons of Vengeance rise

Rub the dust of twenty centuries from your eyes

Fashion your being: ploughshares into weapons of war

Today we conquer the self — tomorrow the world

Men of war defiant — to ashes fall the gods

Apocalyptic deeds — fierce archonic might

A knell a pall masking honored rites of spring

The empyreal majesty of abyss winds

An affirmation of struggle

Like wolves closing in for the kill

Making holy our war immortal this glorious night

A brotherhood of iron — falling in we march

Shout into the star shattered Dawn…

We are Sons of Vengeance

Blessed and bold

Reborn in hate