Lyrics: Bathory. Octagon. Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930.

Sixteen years of age. The suburb sets the scene.
Sixteen years of rage withheld and concealed.
Doors locked. Curtains drawn. Rehearsals begins.
Preparations made. The axe gets a final trim.
Shadowed figures came at night. The hands would
clutch and strike his thighs. The kid would not even
be weeping. This kid pretending he's sleeping.