there's 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 can't be named
cloven hooves'll be stompin'out a rhythm to a melody of screamin pain things with wings'll 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 throbbin'god of the things that can't 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 they're demon gargoyles but not of clay creatures of a forgotten god of things that can't be named