Arabrot Horrors Of The Past
I am chased down a gravel road
Trees fall down behind me
They all have hearts carved
They bear stigmatas
Burnt onto wrists
Drilled into palms
Scratched to the chest
Marked in the mind
I read the books for clues
But I don't understand
These are the horrors of the past
Hand to the crank, round and round and round
Dead tunes creep all over my face
These are the horrors of the past
I approach the abandoned hut in the woods
The doors are locked, the windows barrеd
The moss feel hot to touch
Feel hot to touch
From the swamp sievе mists in shape of ghosts
And the whole of the forest cries
And the darkening skies
The darkening skies
These are the horrors of the past
Hand to the crank, round and round and round
Dead tunes creep all over my face
These are the horrors of the past
