Manilla Road Spirits Of The Dead
Among the crypts and grey tombstones The Spirits did appear Where life escaped but not the souls Mortally bound in fear Their voice is like a whisper Appearance brief and fey Visions of holy sinners Not seen by light of day Spirits Of The Dead Holy Fire Burning the brain Crossed with desire Reincarnate They stood before, here Now laid to rest Trapped by their own fear To make The Quest Spectres climbing through the mist Where the mourners tread Apparitions from the past Eyes now orbs of red They're Spirits Of The Dead Born of The Fire I have come Unto The Fire I shall return Know well thy soul's path Don't bar it's way Hell has the last laugh For those who stay
