At The Cauldron's Bottom (feat. Nate Newton of Converge)

God gave you the spirit of fear.
Bound you soundly to the [bad word] of the world.
It's [bad word] of your mutilation, an ancient relic in your failing heart.

Illogical horror. 
Massive hemorrhage.
Harmonic silence.
Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching. 
The wound of wounds.
In the heart's clutch, held withstanding.

 [bad word] ecstasy. 

But God gave you the spirit of fear! 
Bound you tightly to the [bad word] of this Earth.
It's [bad word] of your mutilation, a broken trinket in your ailing mind.

Illogical horror. 
 [bad word] blaring. 
Massive hemorrhage. 
Harmonic silence.

Tepid muddied fountain swallows us with the rest of the dregs.
At the cauldron's bottom, within the black vault. 
In an endless sea of black rote, we've lost. We've lost. 
Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching. 
The wound of wounds.
We've lost, we're losing. 
When the [bad word] sounds in ecstasy.
The wound of wounds.
We've lost, we're losing.