And Open Gate
When will the gate open,
Between these ancient walls.
So we may start this dance beneath moon,
From under our vaults of stone.
Where widows cried upon dried grass,
And other silently wail.
Our time draws near as darkness follows,
The light of innocent days wanes.
And before a rising blood moon,
Do our bones begin to crawl.
Howl our praise with guttural zeal,
And crack open flesh so sweet.
We haunt along this wandering path,
And seek to devour the land of the living.