The midnight hour is close at hand.
Creatures crawl in search of blood,
To terrorize y'awl's neighborhood.
And whosoever shall be found,
Without the soul for getting down.
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpse's shell.
The demons squeal in sheer delight,
It's you they spy, so plump, so right.
Altough the groove is hard to beat,
Yet still you stand with frozen feet.
You try to run, you try to scream,
But no more sun you'll ever see.
For evil reaches from the crypt,
To crush you in its icy grip.
The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of four thousand years.
And grizzly ghouls from every tomb,
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive,
Your body starts to shiver.
For no mere mortal can resist,
The evil of the thriller.
twisted
