| The world around is killing me
|
| No thunder wind and rain
|
| Eels are crawling everywhere
|
| Compounding with the game
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| Grind the army, the living dead, without destination
|
| The faceless crowd is out to kill all kinds of variations
|
| You’re trying to trample down my dreams
|
| A shot in the dark
|
| Mysteria — the spirits are rising
|
| Eldritch cries from the hill
|
| Mysteria — fires are blazing
|
| Their wicked fist is shattering the still, oh
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| Seven days and nights a week
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| Spinning like a wheel
|
| You try to buckle, bend and break
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| And polish stainless steel
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| Raging fury in the sky burning with desire
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| Self-determination rising from the fire
|
| You’re trying to trample down my dreams
|
| My disdained ideals
|
| Beware of the difference
|
| We’re savage and mean — we’re a…
|
| Mysteria — the spirits are rising
|
| Eldritch cries from the hill
|
| Mysteria — fires are blazing
|
| Their wicked fist is shattering the still
|
| Evil is the dreamer to pit himself
|
| Against the forces of the tide
|
| You pay the seer to portray
|
| What you wanna hear what he has seen that night
|
| Oh — unholy is the feast
|
| Watch us dance around the blazing hellfire
|
| And Lucifer arises he appears at my desire
|
| Mysteria — the spirits are rising
|
| Eldritch cries from the hill
|
| Mysteria — fires are blazing
|
| Their wicked fist is shattering the still, oh |