theres an old new england alley that twists and winds to a rusty iron door that you gotta jimmy with a skeleton key and step through back into a time before the god of the white man came and we kneeled down and prayed and turned our backs on the god of the things that cant be named cloven hoovesll be stompinout a rhythm to a melody of screamin pain things with wingsll be swappin and a-swingin at a devils orgy in a pool of flame the innocent run rabid at their first taste of hi-octance and bow down on the throbbingod of the things that cant be named the power of his evil beckons as the nameless ones come and dance at a carnival of all seven senses and they do them a ten step pentagram no deities theyre demon gargoyles but not of clay creatures of a forgotten god of things that cant be named -Lyrics by Dave Grave of Frankenstein
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 19:07:22 +0000
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