The Black Hundreds

The wind blows hot dust into eyes, clogs nostrils with human soot
Hell smells just like this… of death and sulfur burning


The new wind silences the cries, under the crunch of bloodstained boots
Hell sounds just like this… of the deafening din of Dachau


The new wind snuffs humanity, smears hatred on the tips of tongues
Hell tastes just like this… of dried blood mixed with filth


Just like this… Just like this
Hell is just like this


Just like this… Just like this
Hell is just…
It's just like this…

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