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Spirits of the Dead


The ires burn red,

Like hell's inferno

In The Slaughterhouse

The chainsaws roar,

In deadly thunder

In The Slaughterhouse

Destined to kill

He slays at will

The murderer,

Of a thousand faces

Maddened to rage

Feet in the grave

Living off flesh,

Of the victims he has slain

In The Slaughterhouse

No guest is safe,

>From bloody torture

In The Slaughterhouse

There is no place,

You can call safe

Inside this house,

Is a realm of Chaos

Enter and die

House of black light

Butcher of life,

Could have you under the knife

In The Slaughterhouse

The corpses rot,

Decapitated

In The Slaughterhouse

Manilla Road

Spirits of the Dead / Manilla Road

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