came calls of sound from the wolverine
As they danced their wicked dance
round the fire in a dead trance
Raising the chalice to the night darkly
seek to their own delight
Sacrifice to the only son saving
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
Oh lord of this limbionic state
take the prize we deliver to the gate
Cloven the demons cloak ascends
from the earth this being never ends
As they fall to their knees and prey
as the night reimburse the day
Colder than any mortal thing
his hands stretch to infinity
All encompassing the flock
there's no life in here any more
Deeper than hades he brings to his side
the man who presented the mass
Questioning nothing the high priest is
drawn kneels to his master's request
Talking his left hand and passing it slow
he ponders the mortal before
Swiftly he moves and faster than hell he tears
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
Oh lord of this limbionic state take this prize
Deep in the dark of the forest came calls
4.7
