Paranormal actions in the dead of the night Frequency dip, shadows, a flickering light When the clock strikes twelve and the foghorns asound The horizon's caoted in a misty shround Don't you see the signs? Tonight the town's painted red Don't you see the signs? This night belongs to the dead Red eyes are gleaming, black rags are drenched Rising from darkness, they crave to avenge Hooks scrape on the front doors, marking their way Six come to slaughter and six have to pay Fog floats the chapel to retrieve what's been lost They are here for the priest and the settlor's cross