Brainstorm — Morbid Angel

Gods transform me The storm will cleanse me Civilized I shall not be By this holy strain of laws

I fall below the earth I smell the ancients' breath The fiends encircle me They speak my name in tongues For I'm no human now I burn the ways conform The gods are pleased with me They speak my name in tongues

I am the seer I know the texts divine Thunder words Demons race into my hands

Azazel Lend me your wings of twelve I shall fly into the storm I, son of fire, in anger become The lightning bolts that strike the earth