Текст песни The Antichrist

Shadows come alive at night When I'm with you All the flowers wilt and die When I'm near you In the setting Sun We start to shine You could turn an angel To a life of crime Baby, I think you might be the Antichrist The ashes of a witch mixed with sugar and spice Baby, I think you might be the Antichrist Like a spectre in the twilight, you’ve got me hypnotised Wicked plans unfurling High on the fumes of Rome burning You looked to the heavens Birds fell from the sky Shifting summer love Into October suicide You turn misery Into a work of art Burn down this House of God Be still my beating heart Guilty pleasures Fiendish deeds You know what we need Wicked plans unfurling High on the fumes of Rome burning