Witchcrusher

Deep within the castle – walls covered in moss
On through misty passages into the catacombs
A blasphemous coven – chanting sacred rites
Praises to the Goat under a cloak of night

Bound in torture
Brand sears the skin
Spare me your pathetic cries
Confess your sins

Alone in cold and darkness – imprisoned in this keep
For sordid pagan rituals – crimes against humanity
You are scarred and whipped and flayed all in the name of God
I am his chosen confessor – remorseless in my work

My hands are holy tools
That were not made to heal
But to extract the truth
From your anatomy