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