Xasthur - Souls Of Sin

We spit in your direction
We are animals at heart
Left on Devil's Island
We'll tear the world apart
No ships seen on horizon
No food left in the store
High and dry and scavenging
Around these deadly shores

Black death is overhead
Withnessing our cries
The sun beats down mercilessly
On our mates to die
The night-time and the jungle
The terror in our minds
In narrowed eyes the question begs,
Who will be tonight?