Behold the grave Still as the nighttime With crimes subdued by the earth above No prayer can save God's deaf to their plight When debts are drawn nigh Their pleas are shunned Behold them here These tortured grey folk No comforts we spoke Could wake them now From this nightmare Beneath their headstones Last gasp of their hopes Choked by the ground We glory in our morbid post For should heaven always contend With selfish groans from petty ghosts Or the endless lusts of mortal men We glory in our morbid post For should good men be burdened when The wrath is stoked for hellish hosts T'would be better they're forgotten Behold her face Her beauty fading A grimace twisting Her wrinckled brow What horrors chase her In this dreaming Stop hesitating The time is now To draw her out