| Cracking the whip, horses running fast
|
| The hard groaning wheels, the deep ruts they cast
|
| The coach is rushing, through the haze of the night
|
| Darkness everywhere and no White Masque in sight
|
| Hard pounding hooves, the mud’s flying high
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| Deep panting, throats running dry
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| The sharp biting chill is freezing their breath
|
| But the tottering coach is beating it’s path
|
| Invincible blaze
|
| White masked face
|
| Depriving the scourge
|
| Dreadful mirage
|
| Blazing the wrath with, the union of the «white masque»
|
| The lord’s and marquises, their just running feared
|
| Mysterious force, phantoms of the dark night
|
| Hunting the evil that hides in it’s lair
|
| A dark and caped silhouette’s in the haze
|
| A covered phenomenon with a mask on his face
|
| Pistol and sword, the coach has to stop
|
| The marquis knows well, that he’ll lose what he’s got
|
| Invincible blaze
|
| White masked face
|
| Depriving the scourge
|
| Dreadful mirage
|
| Blazing the wrath with, the union of the «white masque»
|
| The lord’s and marquises, their just running feared
|
| Mysterious force, phantoms of the dark night
|
| Hunting the evil that hides in it’s lair |