sign Oh hail Satan, yes hail Satan Lay down your swords, the evil star It's a black funeral She was a victim of my coven Open the black box on the
the black box to the altar Now raise your hands and do the sign Oh hail Satan, yes hail Satan Lay down your swords, the evil star It's a black funeral
keeper of the city keys Put shutters on the dreams. I wait outside the pilgrim's door With insufficient schemes. The black queen chants the funeral march
... pain... The mad painter and its brush paints walls and windows black Flowers fade... as she'd pass... when the bells over the ancient church ring
moon... Great swordmaster rule! Between the waves of the raging sea Echoes of warcries and battle hymns The underworld's armies found their ancient queen The funeral
MOON... GREAT SWORDMASTER RULE! Between the waves of the raging sea echoes of warcries and battle hymns the underworld's armies found their ancient queen the funeral
: Burning are the Angels of the black moonrise Sons of darkness flayed alive Like a funeral star I will assail Death awaits what the Gods unveil Goddess
Cobwebbed stairs, the ancient bones I'm the shadow rippling cobblestones I'm the stagnant swamp, the black lagoon I'm the branches scratching at the moon
king. The keeper of the city keys Put shutters on the dreams. I wait outside the pilgrims door With insufficient schemes. The black queen chants The funeral
King The keeper of the city keys Put shutters on the dreams I wait outside the pilgrim's door With insufficient schemes The black queen chants, the funeral
. The keeper of the city keys Puts shutters on the dreams. I wait outside the pilgrim's door With insufficient schemes. The black queen chants the funeral
. The keeper of the city keys Put shutters on the dreams. I wait outside the pilgrim's door With insufficient schemes. The black queen chants the funeral
promised, especially your life I demolish Too many niggas claim street but wouldn't last in the projects Too many happy-go-lucky cats rap with no money Black
When the Gates have all been opened When the Funerals Never End When Satans Power Paint our Hearts and Satisfies our Souls When Witches Burn the priests When the Ancient
black, whilst we mortals must confine ourselves to the more pedestrian inner spectrum. Primal primary colours. We are the band playing in front of the funeral
