| Deep in the dark of the forest came calls of sound from the wolverine
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| As they danced their wicked dance round the fire in a dead trance
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| Raising the chalice to the night darkly seek to their own delight
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| Sacrifice to the only son saving blood sip it one by one
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| Cleansing the altar awaiting the prize the virgin clad whiter than snow
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| Holding the mass and presenting the cross pointed inverted below
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| Doubles the blade in the cold and blessed night holds it above to be marked
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| Hammering down in the soft flesh below ripping and tearing the heart
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| Oh lord of this limbionic state take the prize we deliver to the gate
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| Cloven the demons cloak ascends from the earth this being never ends
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| As they fall to their knees and prey as the night reimburse the day
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| Colder than any mortal thing his hands stretch to infinity
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| All encompassing the flock there’s no life in here any more
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| Deeper than hades he brings to his side the man who presented the mass
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| Questioning nothing the high priest is drawn kneels to his master’s request
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| Talking his left hand and passing it slow he ponders the mortal before
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| Swiftly he moves and faster than hell he tears out this lunatics soul
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| Oh lord of this limbionic state take the prize we deliver to the gate
|
| Cleansing the altar awaiting the prize the virgin clad whiter than snow
|
| Holding the mass and presenting the cross pointed inverted below
|
| Doubles the blade in the cold and blessed night holds it above to be marked
|
| Hammering down in the soft flesh below ripping and tearing the heart
|
| Oh lord of this limbionic state take this prize we deliver to the gate
|
| Deep in the dark of the forest came calls of sound from the wolverine |