No Nation On This Earth — Primordial

The sea will be as a desert When my bones are long to dust Beneath shifting dunes And the searing Unconquerable son

Pile the bodies on the pyre Warm the old heart of the earth This is no place for faith, nor for hope Just a journey through the darkest of nights To the old heart of the earth

These are wounds made by cold hands That know the bite of steel Hands that have rendered life extinct And punished the weak at heart

Tell e what Nation on this Earth Is not born of Tragedy? That has not felt such harsh weapons Wielded by cruelty's desire