Thunder on the Fields - Demon Head

Thunder on the fields

The rats of Paris are grinning

Morbid, twisted smiles in the night

Their teeth and eyes are shining

In the valleys people whisper

Children named the chosen ones

They gather 'round to fear and worship

What they do not understand

Up on the mountain, there’s something

Sinister pressing through

Black wings beating, hoofbeats pounding

A presence deeply terrifies you

In the houses of godheads they declare war on life

Reading through cobwebs

Preaching age-old lies

Down by the river, on a beach of black sand

Lovers have guns stuck in their mouths and are cursing these

Wicked lands

In a whiskey bar there’s ghosts

Throwing dice they’re betting with screams

They drink with us unknowingly and inflict the strangest dreams

There’s an eye in the storm

Where riders draw maps that are broken

Their dogs they have no bones, forever

Caught up in a hurricane

There’s an eye in the storm where riders draw maps that are broken

Their dogs they have no bones, forever caught up in a hurricane

That they have awoken