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The gate of thorns, its almost to be crossed
I grip the skulls, I carry the bag of bones
Of wizards lost, armed with daggers and candles
I have their souls, I burry the ashes myself
And all because…I miss the ol’ Satan
I grip the skulls, I carry the bag of bones
Of wizards lost, armed with daggers and candles
I have their souls, I burry the ashes myself

Go rot in the woods, fall

…ghouls make your death bed
I grip the skulls, I paint my face red
For wizards lost, armed with goblets and candles
I have their souls, I burry the ashes myself
And all because…ghouls make your death bed
I grip the skulls, I carry the bag of bones
Of wizards lost, armed with goblets and candles
I have their souls, I burry the ashes myself

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