From the void, to the word, to the ancient folks.
We decline in eclipses, in a downward spiral,
We look up to their idols that are made of gold,
We decline as we worship to their hearts so cold.
Their hearts so cold…
Their hearts so cold…
Like the sandman from our darkest dreams,
Like a spider's kiss from the rooms between,
She's a watcher of the starlit shades,
The keeper, the mistress of the masquerades.
Mistress of the masquerades…
With her claws she'll destroy the western world,
She has arms like serpents, and she's gonna strangle.
There are tales spun around her that you've never heard.
She has servants who are hidden in every angle.
She's a shroud, she's a gas, a smile she never has,
For the thrill, she will kill, will take your life,
When she opens her eyes she will force your will.
Stay awake, keep away from her magic skills!
Magic skills…
Her magic skills…
Like the sand runs from the hour glass,
Like a curse conjured up in the past,
Like a traveller came from far away,
She will raise her mask at the end of days.
Like the sandman from our darkest dreams,
Like a spider's kiss from the rooms between,
She's a watcher of the starlit shades,
The keeper, the mistress of the masquerades.
When the moon stands over London's town,
You will notice her as she is dressed in shadows.
From the sky pitch and sulphur are coming down,
And you feel her presence, feel her breath so close.
In a hallway of arches a train goes like a rush,
In the streets you will hear the smothering yell.
In a car on a highway destinated to crush,
In the end you'll descend, you'll descend to Hell.
Descend to Hell…
Descend to Hell…