Wretched Soul - The Unmaking

Smash our shrines and claim our gods cull our customs, change our words
Hack our culture, crush and quell hew the stone and block the well.
Starve the mind and spirit first break the heart then slake the thirst
Hope and pride shall pay the cost Wolf-heads in the wasteland, lost.
Taste the poison, bliss is all you'll find silent suicide.
Feed our fathers to the lustrate blaze unmake this land's ancient ways.

Glut the ground with gouts of blood crimson fields where brave men stood.
Dowse the heart that burns with pride force all outward love inside
Cut the throat that sings her name silence talk of England's fame.
Twisting vipers coiled like vines venom's tincture turned to wine.
Smouldered scriptures, shattered shrines swallowed by the sands of time
Only at the end of days unmake this land's ancient ways.