Burnt hill abandoned by life,
Sealed with thousands curses,
Haunted by the shadows,
Unholy place where the dead materialize,
In their phantom form,
To penetrate the minds of the living ones.
So I call to thee,
Reading words of the unholy conjuration,
I have to know,
I have to see,
Let the blaze be free!
Fifty names,
Of the watchin' at the gates,
All the human fear,
In its physical appearance,
Open the gates,
For the chariots in a blaze,
Call the wind from the burning deeps of space.
Look at the blood,
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