In the vaporous mist, I mock the light
A deed to nurture the blissful dawn...
Screams of anguish deafen the solemn forest,
As I torture the prophets of Zion...

Impeached by an assembly of hypocrites
Denied my heritage of the wild...
Blessed I am to taste their treacherous sin
To their words I am not beguiled
...to their words I'm not beguiled...

A lost soul to their faultless teachings of truth
I'm doomed to an eternity in agony...
As I harken the word of the lunatic zealot
I prosper in my rapture of blasphemy

Accused of the laws of dreadful witchery,
Condemned to the fate of death...
But beware my act (of) modus operandi
That can suffocate the last of your breath

I refuse to be impeached of my gift
To perform the secrets of the black art...
With pride I wear the Devil's mark

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