Those who remember hell

A hundred years, the smoke still rises,
The hill still whispers my name.
Bones below and ash above me,
I came back through the flame.

Those who remember hell bring it back again,
With blood on their hands and steel in the rain.
I carry the fire, it cries behind me,
Hell’s coming with me, and I walk in its flame.

The bell still rings like a beating heart,
The shadows rise to tear me apart.
I was the devil, I was the saint,
Now I’m the ghost they couldn’t paint.

Those who remember hell bring it back again,
With a song on their lips that burned their home.
I’ve come to settle an ancient payment,
Hell’s coming with me, and I walk alone.

You hear that bell—it’s calling your name,
You smell that ash—it’s asking for blame.
I’m not your savior, not your thief,
I’m just the echo of old belief.

Let the sky burn red, let the ground shake still,
Let every sin have its final thrill.
Those who remember hell are never gone,
Their footsteps march when the night drags on