White lights defiled
Black shapes and horns
By my command, unleash the storm

Raising and forming alive
'Til delights get lost
In the sounds and power from hell

Blood of the damned
Invokes the scorned
Their helpless eyes just watching you
Drive home thy horn

Raising a prophecy of chaos and pain
That burst forth from flames to serve

What seemed metaphysical
But a faith that values darkned souls
Knows not that ways of man
Overlord

Give praise to primal laws
Bound by crimson, bound by swords
Awaiting one last kiss
From un

Written by Billie Holiday

Then that's got shall get,
them that's not shall loose,
so the Bible said and it still is news.
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.

Well the strong gets more,
while the weak ones fade,
empty pokets don't ever make the grade.
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.

Money, you've got lots of friends
crowding round your door
when it's gone and spending ends
they don't come round no more

Rich relations give
crusts of bread and such
you can help yourself
but don't take too much
Mama may have, papa may have,
but God bless the child that's got his own,
that's got his own.

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