Trudenhaus Lyrics

body racks with hot, spiked rollers burn the sins right from your soul
head-crushing vice to pulverize the jaws which utter blasphemy
stretched on the wheel, disjointing pain, dropped from the ceiling, then immersed
can one believe the inhumane, ill-conceived misdeeds that took place within a church
knotted ropes forced down your throat with boiling water
ripped out upon the moment of confession - false confession
these acts do so beg our description, but how can mere words describe the horror?
oh God, please save us from your followers!
this is a testament of God's love
omnibenevolence bathed in blood
when flesh becomes the canvas to a new creation
the flesh becomes willing to return to dust
thumbscrews and jagged leg-breakers squeeze out each unholiness
and when you can stand or move no more, you're thrown into the iron chair
the fires are stoked, the spikes turn red, and soon you'll smell your burning flesh and blood
try to protest, but they've carved out your tongue and your eyes, a fitting send-off to meet God
bodkin daggers pierce deep into every inch of your body to let the demons out
the Devil's mark we're sure to find, anesthetized by pain, indifferent to your life
the same choir song resounds throughout inquisition halls upon every eve
and no Benedictine could ever outperform this symphony of dying screams
this is a gallery of God's love
a house of God given over to torture tests
within this Christian court of law
lies, gossip, and rumors will warrant death
every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess
and every heart despair in bloodstained blackened death
and every knee shall break, every tongue silenced
within the heart of darkness, Trudenhaus passes sentence
in Trudenhaus, meet your death
witch house, house of the dead
house of the dead
greet your death