Paranormal actions in the dead of the night
Frequency dip, shadows, a flickering light

When the clock strikes twelve and the foghorns asound
The horizon's caoted in a misty shround

Don't you see the signs?
Tonight the town's painted red
Don't you see the signs?
This night belongs to the dead

Red eyes are gleaming, black rags are drenched
Rising from darkness, they crave to avenge

Hooks scrape on the front doors, marking their way
Six come to slaughter and six have to pay

Fog floats the chapel to retrieve what's been lost
They are here for the priest and the settlor's cross