Lavey-athan - Witchery

Freeze in the stare of the cold, full moon

And burn in the glare of the judging sun

Spill the blood down the serpent’s stairs

You’ll never be free until you break away

No streets of gold with the Lavey-athan

No pearly gates with the Lavey-athan

Slit the throat of the offering lamb

And hang the thralls from the holy branch

Congregate in the circle of stone

But you’re just a piece of shit seen from the holy throne

Bow to your genetic needs

Revel in the comfort of a prophecy

Surrender reason for dependency

Nurse at the bosom of divinity

Shrouded in the clouds or in the heavens above

Dwelling in the deep or on a mountain top

Ambiguous writings lead the thousands by the hand

Get your sense of purpose from the clergy man