Born in the shadow of the moors, blood-soaked skies,
Knuckles cracked, grip tight, no more disguise.
Crows circle the fields, dirt under nails,
Whispered vows to the dark, the Yorkshire Dales.


Steel bite in me hand, blade hums like hymns,
Pagan rites in the forest, severed limbs.
The cult chants, the fire spits, ash rains down,
Blood rivers cut through the middle of this town.
Oi, you hear that? A choir of screams,
They call me the reaper, nightmare in your dreams.
Spitting sermons in shadows, black-cloaked priest,
Rage boils in the veins, unleash the beast.


Blood on me boots, blood on me hands,
The Dales won't forget the wrath of this man.
Sacrifice the light, let the dark expand,
Yorkshire's wrath, mate, you won't understand.


Techno pulse in the distance, a beat of doom,
Drum & bass like a heartbeat fills the room.
Slaughter in sync, gutturals like a hymn,
Angels weep while I carve through sin.
Flesh rips easy, just paper to me knife,
Each slash a prayer to end this life.
But the guilt, mate, it sits heavy on me chest,
Each kill's a cry, each breath's a test.


And I ask the moors, "What have I become?"
Their silence screams louder than any drum.


Blood on me boots, blood on me hands,
The Dales won't forget the wrath of this man.
Sacrifice the light, let the dark expand,
Yorkshire's wrath, mate, you won't understand.

YoRKshIRe's wRaTh

Weirdly this does cost me some expenses, any donations would be massively appreciated! 

If you have requests let me know!

YoRKshIRe's wRaTh

RedsThunders