The Dark One of empty promises cracks wide a hideous grin
He has a first row seat in the heat of the game of sin
He claps together his castanets of cartilage and bone
As he dances alone on his forsaken throne
The players are hell-bound, miles below ground
And the umpire is He.
He swears as he prepares individual prisons of misery
You’re out, you’re out, and YOU’RE OUT!
Screams He at the top of his carcinogenic voice
The Benevolent doesn’t hear him so he makes more and more noise.
He smashes together Hell-Hound cymbals, His power symbols.
As his lacerated mind-slaves howl out in pain.
This is His moment. This is His game
As for the players: sinners without prayers,
nothing will ever be the same.
He has a first row seat in the heat of the game of sin
He claps together his castanets of cartilage and bone
As he dances alone on his forsaken throne
The players are hell-bound, miles below ground
And the umpire is He.
He swears as he prepares individual prisons of misery
You’re out, you’re out, and YOU’RE OUT!
Screams He at the top of his carcinogenic voice
The Benevolent doesn’t hear him so he makes more and more noise.
He smashes together Hell-Hound cymbals, His power symbols.
As his lacerated mind-slaves howl out in pain.
This is His moment. This is His game
As for the players: sinners without prayers,
nothing will ever be the same.
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