COLD WAVES

Boots hit the ground, heavy like thunder. Echoes of war pulling me under. Red skies crack with the devil's grin. Marching slow where the end begins. Hellfire stomps, we burn the ground. Devil laughs, but makes no sound. Under dirty beats, the reaper's call. An omen shakes the heavens fall. Masked in shadows, smoke for lungs. Death hums low in foreign tongues. Metal clanks and whispers sin. This is the march where none can win. Distorted screams, they rip the air. Tick-tock clocks, but no one cares. Memphis roots in a devil's snare. Your soul's the prize, you wouldn't dare. Hellfire stomps, we burn the ground. Devil laughs, but makes no sound. Under dirty beats, the reaper's call. An omen shakes the heavens fall. Slow we march to the gates of wrath. No turning back on this brutal path. Funk beats echo in the devil's lair. Dance with death if you even dare. Hellfire stomps, we burn.