Killing spree
Rotting hills
Stormy winter
Virus spreading

Groaning
Moaning
Howling
Killing
You'll be eaten
And infected

Fear begone
Of empty yesterdays
For all that I can hear
Are echoes of the moon

My pack is rotting
And smelling your flesh
You can't run
You can't hide
No escape
You will die

Groaning
Moaning
Howling
Killing
You'll be eaten
And infected

Fear begone
Of empty yesterdays
For all that I can hear
Are echoes of the moon

Fear begone
Of empty yesterdays
For all that I can hear
Are echoes of the moon

No escape
You will die

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