The Wrath of the Dead

As you destroy sacred grounds
Digging at them like hounds
My people's bones you dare touch
Tainted creatures much
Ever hear of a curse
Well I am worse
I will skin you alive
To restore my ancestor's pride
They will smile as I tan your hide
I will laugh as you cry
It is only right for me to sigh,
You can not escape
For this was fate
You will all die
As worthless as flies