Incantation

Blood on the hands
Stain on the soul
Shifting of sands
Sins of the old

Now boil the blood
(A soul to behold)
The old will shift
The stains of the sands

A baby was born
With hands so cold
'Twas stained, and scorn
Bled out from the bold

Shifting of hands
Blood on the sands
Sins on the soul
Stain of the old

These hands will fasten
The noose on the throat
Of their own brethren,
Children of the goat

It's your thirst for blood
And your lust for flesh
That started this flood.
It's your love for sin
That starts the killing:
Which scorches the skin,
- It taints the unborn -
Deep down in the womb

Dye your hands
Drink the sand
Drain the blood
From the land

FVL