A Southern Doomcore Origin Hymn
Sin will find you out…
Dust on the altar, truth in the grave,
Preacher walks tall, but his soul ain’t saved.
Fire in his breath, gun in his coat,
Preachin’ redemption from a bloodstained note.
You called it justice, but we saw wrath,
You paved salvation with a vengeful path.
No crown of thorns, no kingdom come—
Only fire… and the preacher’s gun.
Baptized sinners don’t speak his name,
Saints all vanished when the hammer came.
No psalms, no peace, just smoke and dust—
He traded God for a gun and rust.
“You don’t need heaven… when you’ve got hell in your hands.”
Burn the book, forget the verse,
He wrote his gospel in the dirt.
One by one, they fell like rain—
Forgiveness drowned in lead and flame.
This town don’t sleep, it just forgets,
What the preacher did, what the bullets meant.
No heaven left, no mercy spun—
Only fire—only fire—and the preacher’s gun.
“Deliver us… not from evil… but into it…”