Troopers Son
Member
I stand alone in this desolate space. In death they are truely alive
Massacred innocence, evil took place. The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why. What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies. Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own. The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal. Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands. Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty. To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black. Satan his weapon is lust
As for the knowleadge of god they had claimed. Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own. Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin. No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave. Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty. To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
Massacred innocence, evil took place. The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why. What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies. Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own. The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal. Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands. Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty. To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black. Satan his weapon is lust
As for the knowleadge of god they had claimed. Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own. Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin. No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave. Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty. To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel