Aren't they haunting you?
Draining your mind's power,
Aren't they?
Aren't they manipulating?
Superstitions!
Skeletons in your closet,
This night of your spirit
They come,
Sires of your errors,
Medieval ghouls!
Hope instead doubt is their death instead life,
Ignorant bliss of your conscience. They thrive
On all of our time spent composing the real,
Every time we suspect
Above there is some thing
UNHEARD! UNTOUCHED! UNSEEN!..
It is so easy to fancy
Isn't it easy to wipe out the kin?
Drive the stake right in!
