In this graveyard we demons play
Chasing chaos and causing pain
This grave of hopes and dreams our own
Is where we reap the flesh and bone
When the sun fades and begins to pout
The churchyards yawn and all hell breaks out
The good souls of some and the bad of all
In the wicked witching hour fall

It is a horrid parade traipsing down
To the gates of flames and fury
The bells of Hell ring in the night
To summon the spiteful monarch
He rises up for those who pale
In comparison to all the rest
As he takes each and every one
Back past his brimstone doormat
To the place where the lost souls roam rampant
And in the witching hour rise