The Living Grave

The whispers from the woods. The devil's curse Invoke the essence of the sanguine chalice A melody so rousing Enchanting souls with a sadistic madness The dark wind is blowing. There's death on the river Tombstones arise in the necrolithic age The rider on the storm wields the whip of the reaper Hellhounds are heralding the last of your days Rise up and cast off the chains that surround you Dragging you down in that hideous domain Resist the pull of the foreboding darkness Exhume your spirit from the living grave At the cemeteries edge A witch doctor appears What do you truly desire What do you truly fear The dark wind is blowing. There's death on the river Tombstones arise in the necrolithic age The rider on the storm wields the whip of the reaper Hellhounds are heralding the last of your days Rise up and cast off the chains that surround you Dragging you down in that hideous domain Resist the pull of the foreboding darkness Exhume your spirit from the living grave Deities come forth in the splendor of the night Cloaked in the embrace of otherworldly light Shadows surround you. They're calling your name Beckoning you closer to the living grave The dark wind is blowing. There's death on the river Tombstones arise in the necrolithic age The rider on the storm wields the whip of the reaper Hellhounds are heralding the last of your days Rise up and cast off the chains that surround you Dragging you down in that hideous domain Resist the pull of the foreboding darkness Exhume your spirit from the living grave