Not the one.
The souls are gonna burn.
You're the one.
Coming down the dead.
Through the darkness skies are gonna
show.
Pray for lies, but who's the one to go.
The streams of blood flow into the streets.
Feeds the need, of the decayed rotting
means.
The fires breeds upon, the weary young.
Evil tales, sold his only son.
Life no longer fills the need.
Dead silence
in which to feed.
The fires breeds upon, the weary young.
Evil tales sold his only son.
Life no longer, fills the
need.
Feeds the need, of the decayed rotting means.