Paroles: Cryptic Wintermoon. Of Shadows... And Dark Things You Fear. Bonegrinder 1916.

The smell of poison gas ? fills the air
No need to search for death ? he will find you there

Soil drained with blood ? cities pulverized
Dead bodies twisted ? humans carbonized
Bonegrinder ? grinding bones ? eating them alive
Spitting them out dead ? no one will survive

War is the only answer
My gun spreads bullets like cancer

Bombs like rain ? day and night ? moving out ? suicide
Death angels ? from the sky ? descent from hell ? thousands die
Machinegun fire ? detonations ? rifle rounds ? devastation
Grinding bones ? artillery shell ? draining blood ? here is hell

Fire, roaring thunder ? will be my coming signs
Planting death and havoc ? among the defense lines

Thousand bodies ? lay ripped and torn
The sound of cannon fire ? roars like thunderstorm

Soil drained with blood ? cities pulverized
Dead bodies twisted ? humans carbonized
Bonegrinder ? grinding bones ? eating them alive
Spitting them out dead ? no one will survive

War is the only answer
My gun spreads bullets like cancer