Clubland
We are one with our master satan
Have you ever seen the darkened eyes
And the flames of immortal power
In the deeps of hell we arise
And we came to destroy christianity
By our side unholy armees will ride
And satans kingdom is build soon
In the desert where all deamons came out
Five of satanas lightkillers were born to destroy
In the name of satan they were pointed as snakes
and they saw all christians as their enemies
For a dream of a new dawn where no light exist and a
New regime of the unholy is built
In the si
I'm Not The Man
[ Merchant ]
[ bassoons: Kim Laskowski & Atsuko Sato ]
It crawls on his back, won't ever let him be.
Stares at the walls until the cinder blocks can breathe.
His eyes have gone away, escaping over time.
He rules a crowded nation inside his mind.
He knows that night like his hand.
He knows every move he made.
Late shift, the bell that rang, a time card won't fade.
10:05 his truck pulled home.
10:05 he climbed his stair, about the time he was accused of being there.
But I'm not the man.
He goes free as I wait on the row for the man to test the rope he'll slip around my throat...
and silence me.
On the day he was tried no witnesses testified.
Nothing but evidence, not hard to falsify.
His own confession was a prosecutor's prize,
made up of fear, of rage and of outright lies.
But I'm not the man.
He goes free as the candle vigil glows, as they burn my clothes.
As the crowd cries, "Hang him slow!" and I feel my blood go cold, he goes free.
Call out the KKK, they're wild after me.
And with that frenzied look of half-demented zeal,
they'd love to serve me up my final meal.
Who'll read my final rite and hear my last appeal?
Who struck this devil's deal?