The festival was over and the boys were all planning for a fall The cabaret was quiet except for the drilling in the wall The curfew had been lifted and the gambling wheel shut down
Rid yourself of all the worthless crap in which you wallow Here's an iron fist of death for you to swallow Undead from Antarctia, the signals pumping free
I would turn on the TV but it's so embarrasing To see all the other people I don't know that they mean It was magic at first when they spoke without sound