作词 : Hoare, Millard, Turner, Ward
Have mercy on the city, she's a dying whore 
I never said these streets were paved with gold 
The shallow graves are overflowing and the 
Thames runs red 
Is this enough to make your blood run cold? 
Cracked skin and sunken eyes demand a special hold 
Upon the angels coming judgement day 
Dead hounds and a triple-horned messiah 
Motion for redemption in the ripper's way 
Running faster than the sands of time, the lambs conspire 
To raise the omens of an unknown faith 
The devil's virtues overpowering the wrath of 
God And twist the blade upon the human race 
The wolf is loose and in this city it's a fatal flaw 
To see the beast under a funeral moon 
Can't shake the paranoia that the end is nigh 
When you're spoiling in a lousy tomb 
Healing Through 
Fire Healing 
Through Fire 
Healing Through 
Fire Healing 
Through Fire 
Ghosts of the hounds start to rise in their packs 
Hunting the blood that they crave 
Like serpents that coil through the streets in the night 
You prey for your life to be saved 
Howling like banshees, so full of despair 
A death knell to all that they cross 
Diseased and deranged like the pit hounds of hell 
Devouring the flesh of the lost 
Cursed are the wicked and blessed are the sick 
They see not the evil at hand 
Animals rising from ash covered tombs 
For vengeance upon every man 
Snarling with vehemence, they beckon the thaw 
Feeding on souls of the broke 
Ditches and churchyards will crawl with the rats 
That feed on their throats till they choke