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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
To The Grave
Performer
Matt Clarke
Bass Guitar
Luke Ringin
Electric Guitar
Simon O'Malley
Drums
Jack Simioni
Electric Guitar
Dane Evans
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Matt Clarke
Songwriter
Luke Ringin
Arranger
Simon O'Malley
Songwriter
Jack Simioni
Songwriter
Dane Evans
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Matt Clarke
Producer
Lance Prenc
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Deliver me
Their heads on a fucking plate
Pack up the picnics
It's time to panic
Rip up the stitches
Shock tactics, the back of the head
Nothing in common
Lick up your vomit
Morally twisted
Fence sitters ripped the fuck off it
Choking on blood, we bit off our tongues
All for what?
If they could sell the air in your lungs
You'd already be done
Shut it
Hanging threads cut now your bodies drop
Didn't have the guts to watch
Rip the veil from their threats
12 gauge loaded with dragons breath
Scatter carnists
Dracarys
Our blades razor sharp
Did them like the Starks
Cut the fat from your heart
A naked cunt has few excuses
A flayed one none
Disturb their "peace"
Dig up all their dead
Revenge does not rot
Choking on blood, we bit off our tongues
All for what?
They wanna eat the brains in your skull
Luckily you have none
Stabbing our backs, twisting the knife
All my life
Dominion dies tonight
Together we will rise
Blood bathe us clean
(I will take this liberation with fire and blood)
Blood bathe us clean
(This is a call to arms, limbs, legs and severed fucking heads)
Carve a target
In their foreheads
So they never fucking forget
The side that they picked
Pack up the picnics
It's time to panic
Rip up the stitches
Shock tactics, the back of the head
Nothing in common
Lick up your vomit
Morally twisted
Fence sitters ripped the fuck off it
Welcome to the fucking
Meat grinder
A circle of hell reserved for the liars
Meat grinder
Cheap cuts lined up for the incisors inside us
Writer(s): Matt Clark, Dane Evans, Jack Simioni, Luke Ringin
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