Witch country murder party helter-skelter To the scaffold reborn Through the haze of an august swelter To the wind-kissed rustle of the corn
Bored of the dark places My heart races Hellraisers come to start a war
Pretty Miss Ballistic Let’s get… Miss Ballistic Let’s best be optimistic for the game Begging for our pardon We are free to walk the garden Things will never ever be the same
Crucifixes fail to shit and hinder us today The sunlight doesn’t spir and cinder us away
Breaking bad The shadow-clad We promise mad Camaraderie
Dies Irae Of red bouquets Upon this day A spray of summer arteries
Fixed, vile, vain, inhumane trial blazers To the pyre return Through the fog and the cut-throat razors To the screams of unwilling to burn
Bored of the dark places My heart races Hellraisers come to start a war
Pretty Miss Ballistic Don’t get shitty Miss Ballistic Best be optimistic for the game Begging for our pardon They are weak to make us harden Things will never be the same
Never ever be the same
Burning in those angel eyes Truly wicked angel eyes Yearning in those angel eyes Truly wicked angel eyes