Текст песни Crowds...

A necrotic cattle brand The hissing downfall pentagram Carven deep upon the church doors of the damned But no Passover is planned A great renewal growls at hand And only when they're running Will they come to understand... So ends the pitiful reign of Man When the moon exhales Behind a veil Of widowhood and clouds On a Biblical scale We raise the stakes To silhouette the impaled Crowds...