I stand alone in this desolate space. In death they are truly alive.
Massacred innocence, evil took place. The angels were burning inside.

Centuries later I wonder why. What secret that they took to their grave.
Still burning heretics under our skies. Religion still burning inside.

At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.

As we kill them all so god will know his own. The innocents died for the pope on his throne.
Catholic greed and it's paranoid zeal. Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross.

Templar believers with blood on their hands. Joined in the chorus to kill on demand.
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty. To stand with the Cathars to die and be free.

The book of old testament crippled and black. Satan his weapon is lust.
Living this evil damnation of flesh, back to the torture of life.
The perfect would willingly have died at the stake and all of their followers slain.
As for the knowledge of god they had claimed. Religion still burning inside.

At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.

As we kill them all so god know his own. The innocents died for the pope on his throne.
Catholic greed and it's paranoid zeal. Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross.

Templar believers with blood on their hands. Joined in the chorus to kill on command.
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty. Still burning heretics under our skies.

As we kill them all so god WILL know his own. Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust.
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin. No passover feast for the curse of within.

Facing the sun as they went to their grave. Burn like a dog or you live like a slave.
Death is the price for your soul's liberty. To stand with the cathars and to die and be free.

At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.
At the gates and the walls of Montségur. Blood on the stones of the citadel.