Spinning Back The Clocks - Diabolical Masquerade

Drag him down

That knife, slipping flee

That knife, slipping flee

Sweet dreams my dear little child

I burn for touching a bead of your own mass

You will be gone now forever

Try to sleep one more time

A spirit light comes through

Silent bringer of death

The cover breezed right open

Come to steal the cash

Washed his blade over the kill

(Here comes the light)

Furious desertion