The Wicked

Raining on the purple flowers
The blood stained, but I fly
All the crops are now rotten, the fruit has begun to die

All the leafs are falling now
There's nothing more for me to take

I don't fear your lying god
His fools, his clowns are his stake

Fear is fall, and fall is fear, the fear to fall and feel the end

Black spirit in white, red spirit in gray
By the breaking of my tomb, something wicked the best way becomes

Black spirit in white, red spirit in gray
By the breaking of my tomb, something wicked the best way becomes

Round and round the coldred gold
In a poisoned entrance throne
Days and night has 31, the devil's work shall soon be done

All your children, will be found
Bury them hurry on the underground
For window trought I'll be burning you
When mine's are trought, I'll be burning you

Seasons os of death, seasons of disease
From my lies and my blasphemy

Fear me, hate me, destroy me
I kill man's maid, imprision me, burn me

Black spirit in white, red spirit in gray
By the breaking of my tomb, something wicked the best way becomes

Black spirit in white, red spirit in gray
By the breaking of my tomb, something wicked the best way becomes