Woorden: Tribe After Tribe. The Spell.

I am an atmosphere of cruelty
and in your blood i roam
my shadow seeks a modest death
when all your life is gone
see your world is turning round
it's a sacrifice to me
as the fire's flames turn round
it is all that you can see

when the lights fades from your eyes
then my darkness fills your skies
as close as breath to you am i
it's you and i

whe the wind blows you will know
then to a hollow place we go
no you're not alone
you're not alone

a thousand fires adore
evil winds with no heart
how those fires they glow
cold and lonely they go

all the teachers turn their heads
poisoned reason spoil their eggs
fallen angel feel your dead
in the house of holies

who cast that spell upon me

in a sense you're innocent
in a sense you're innocent
in a sense you're not to blame
in a sense you're to shame