1. 1

    Funeral Mist - In Nomine Domini

  2. 2

    Funeral Mist - Jesus Saves!

  3. 3

    Funeral Mist - A New Dawn

  4. 4

    Funeral Mist - A New Light

  5. 5

    Funeral Mist - Across The Qliphoth

  6. 6

    Funeral Mist - Agnus Déi

  7. 7

    Funeral Mist - Anathema Maranatha

  8. 8

    Funeral Mist - Anti-Flesh Nimbus

  9. 9

    Funeral Mist - Apokalyptikon

  10. 10

    Funeral Mist - Blessed Curse

  11. 11

    Funeral Mist - Bread To Stone

  12. 12

    Funeral Mist - Breathing Wounds

  13. 13

    Funeral Mist - Bringer Of Terror

  14. 14

    Funeral Mist - Circle Of Eyes

  15. 15

    Funeral Mist - Holy Poison

  16. 16

    Funeral Mist - Hooks of Hunger

  17. 17

    Funeral Mist - In Here

  18. 18

    Funeral Mist - In Manus Tuas

  19. 19

    Funeral Mist - Living Temples

  20. 20

    Funeral Mist - Perdition's Light

  21. 21

    Funeral Mist - Realm Of Plagues

  22. 22

    Funeral Mist - Sun Of Hope

  23. 23

    Funeral Mist - Sword Of Faith

  24. 24

    Funeral Mist - White Stone

Hooks of Hunger

Funeral Mist

He that hath eyes to see, let him see
And he that hath ears to hear, let him hear
The gospel of the great bleeding ahead
The rage of the unborn and
The wrath of the dead
For have we not sold their bonds
For shreds of false fulfillment?

Yes, we have sold their bonds for pleasure!
And we have sold their blood for hollow sounds of laud
Ancient holy essence for puffs of weightless gold
Yes weightless is the coin of Satan
Weightless is its dead warmth

Would you know the devil if hell was a place of comfort?
Would you know damnation if hell was a state of satisfaction?
In flames of risk-free battle, would you know the devil
If hell was a bed of unearned rest?
Would you know who to blame if hell was
A ball of flesh kept in place with hooks of hunger?

He that hath eyes to see, let him see
And he that hath blood to bleed, let him bleed
For have we not sold our veins for barren chants of praise?
All that you hold must be paid for again

And again our scars must be counted
And again our truths must stand up and gird for war
All smiles must be measured and weighed on scales of woe
Would you know the devil if hell was a vault of latent deeds?

Would you know who to praise if hell was
A wreath of lust torn from grace with hooks of hunger?

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