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See the child, pentagram in hand |
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There's nothing that can stop him |
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Psychopathic mind, misdirected wrath |
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Towards all who dwell around him |
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But they'll blame it on us |
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And our music |
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Throats and faces slashed |
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The raping it would last |
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Into victims, dying |
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He broke into their room |
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Sense impending doom |
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Suspended animation |
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Enjoying the pain |
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Of his victims |
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Oh, Nightstalker looms |
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Inside of drugs |
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Nightstalker, Nightstalker |
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You'll blame it on song |
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But you are wrong |
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Nightstalker, Nightstalker |
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What you don't understand |
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And you can't comprehend |
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Don't you try to explain it |
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Until you live alone |
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And feel the coldness roam |
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Throughout your hollow soul |
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Still you'll blame it on us |
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And our music |
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The night convicts you once more |
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Like a bed traps a whore |
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There's no escaping black instinct |
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You've damned the innocent to blame |
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Inflicting on us false shame |
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Salem's children close to the link |
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So take a look at yourself |
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And worry 'bout no one else |
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Take a look all around you |
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Maybe someone you know |
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Will need for you to show |
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How it is that you found it |
