speaking of tells between heaven and hell i have a demon in my forehead when damage is done i am the seventh son feeling like the living dead i'm going out on a cold december night spreading out the evil seed if you're doing it right black will turn to white metal might is all you need
i cout the lases the beast is torn the devil in me will reap what's sown goin' straight down the white line i walk the devil's path i can see it clear now so close to the gates i am one with dakness and hel lawaits goin' straight down the white line i walk the left hand path
speaking of saints while we dry out the paint a pentagram is on my back like a monkey to speak and you listen to priests? do you really think that god is fat? i was left out the can well i'm the boogie man do you dare to do the beat? i never listened to priest though it seems like a feast here we go and off the heat
i don't speak of the devil oh it's the devil that speaks to me