the pen of the reaper, stare in my eyes Look deeper, now turn into stone, it's Medusa Reduce your flesh into bones, prey upon your dead meat like a vulture
all has been lost I know, I will be forgiven Turn your eyes away do not lay that gaze upon me for this mere shell of mine would surely break before thee
yard And he tapped with his whip on the shutters But all was locked and barred He whistled a tune to the window And who should be waiting there But
for a raw meat bones upon the metal sick upon the circle down upon the carpet down upon the carpet down below the parapet waiting for your bidding
shadows deep I fold my wings, And let my dreams decide my fate, For all things come to those who wait, Who wait in wings, Who wait in faith, Who let
known... a dire and ancient threat is ranged against me. Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all, Grim warriors,
the truth is known... a dire and ancient threat is ranged against me. Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all
secrets, the truth is known... a dire and ancient threat is ranged against me. Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all
that lurks beneath marbled stone What black witchcraft shalt prise thee from thy dreams And what perverse world-strategy Will wend it's way with thee
Seduction, my obsessive art A pantheon of tragedies inscribed upon the stars Like thistled ruin, garbed around thy heart Bacchanal Cinderella, desirious midnight passed Leaving thee
time is now we go to wage war against the enemy i'm the Campion,the Defender of Humanity with vengeance i will ride upon them all [chorus] I'm
mountains, where I used to be a king King of all the outer realms, how I wish to return... "Welcome back, my son, I have waited for a long time Waited
s the latest, That makes it the greatest, Sweeping ev'ry section of my country 'tis of thee; Chorus 1: You'll adore the step that ev'ryone's been waiting
his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed
rule and those that toil are equalled in the fact that all pay homage to this mortal coil. Icy fingers grasping madly get a grip upon my throat - and
I render'st thou for all that torment feels And longed to be thy lordship's faithful friend Yea, quiet as a mushroom did I wait I willed to thee my form
dark innyard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting