Sangre De Christo

Turn away, turn away
There's nothing here for you
You can't understand the truth
They're here for blood
They're bringing pain
If there's a hell on Earth
Then it lies between these mountains

They are the phantom surgeons of the plains

Severed remains
Was this not seen as a warning?

The slaughterings, precise and surgical
Tongues cut behind the teeth
No blood remains
The smell of acetone follow the mutilations

The carnage, vast and unthinkable
Skin peeled back over heads
Disfiguring what's left for dead
Disposed and thrown away

The dangers
These dancers in the sky
Where are they coming from?
Are we their experiments?

The vortex is always open
The silence surrounding the fear
Who knows what will become of this?
Predators, lurking in the night
Are we the next ones left to die?

There is no sympathy