Stigma

This is how we judge a man: By his scars
We lick the pus and we taste the flesh
Dipe our iron fangs in half healed wounds
The stench of blood tells us of his soul

We hunt the ones touched by angels
Regain our godhood with carnal ways
We lick the pus and we taste the flesh
To leave this plane and to ascend

We have beheld the sign of the serpent
Got it burned for good in our souls and flesh
Only one single lamp do show us this way
And we'll lit a hell of a torch from it

Descent so deep into own hatred
Wipe the floor with human morals
Grasp the world by its throat
And take what we fucking please