[music: Andy Klassen]. [words: Sabina Classen]. . Blood - Blood Sucker - You Wimp!. You always win, you never loose, never looking back. You're always looking for the right time to attack.
Although we have never been so close. We feel we are connected to each other. Dreams, desires and goals. By defensive was it sowed. . Our realms will soon collide.
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Angel of death is walking through the ice-cold air. to take the witches remains, he comes to take his share. Hangman has done his work, destroying their dirty minds.
Always looking for shelters, try to hide in the mist of the night,. Exist beyond reasons, give up the authorities of time,. Convoke in the name of god, born under the curse of inbreeding,.
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Out in the world you can watch 'em struggling. For a small piece of luck. They won't die with a smile on their trace. . For possession they'd kill their mothers.
In the war of the roses, the tragedy source. King Edward was bound to die. Richard III the new "lord protector". Ruled with "loyalty me lie". A vigilant guardian to the sons of the king.
Like an hawk-eyed eagle, we're cruising on our raid. Our dogged pride will never fade. Born-free we're still sailing the seven stormy seas. No-one will force us to our knees.
Blackness is calling, you're enslaved by its rule. Obeying your madness, the weak-hearted fool. Possessed by evil, you're on their game. Hate is your motive to rule in their name.
The churchbell of doom is tolling. The angel of death is near. The ghost with cowl and the sickle. Spreading terror and fear. . He's taking your breath,.
A scarred and rakish seadog, mysterious opacity. Walks the grove, the phantom's home. Cuts down firs where men would flee. Wooden beams and mortal, the timber shack is taking shape.
Silence. In the steps of no-man's land. Camp fire, the smell of prarie wind. Men surround the blaze. Drink booze recall the day. Til a strangers voice rings out to pray the sin.
Ancient warriors, troops of hell. Demon commands, parsons to fell. Iron bound horses, twinkling gaze. Marching to win, black laws to raise. . Satan's army, shields and swords.
Blood, blood, bloody night. The poor stand up and fight. Marquises, kings and all this vermin. Hunted up in burning streets. Fight, fight, fight with rage.
June, the 18th, 1815, the Battle at Belle Alliance. Marshy fields and pouring rain. All the blood and the [Incomprehensible], oh. . Cannons fire, Cuirassiers attack.
Fifty years ago with the world at war. Hands bloodied, devastated. Better believe they're back for more. Pounding the world with a fits of steel. Jack booted, heavy handed.
(Rolf Kasparek). . He was born at the shore of Greenhock in the year 1645. Ran away at the age of fourteen, to flee from his soul-killing life. He signed on to sail the wild-winds.
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(Mike Muir / Mike Clark). . (guitar solo). . Give me back the beat.... Bringing back the beat.... Give me back the beat.... Give me back the beat.... .