His tongue conjured up fire
In hearts of hope that did smolder
With words as clear as the wind
Blades sprang from ashes again

Dance!

Sermon of the crooked cross
The pulpits rock with death

Chaos [bad word] deafening
Sure-footed might-machine
Dance floors of human flesh
Syncopated until the end

His dagger like eyes
Left you limp in their stead

Blood! Weak is the pride in your veins
Master! Gives your fear a face that you can hate
Iron! Is the solution to the problem
Slave! Is what you are, confirmed in unison

Entranced by the wolfshook
Hypnotized by blood
Condemned to the wolfshook [bad word] in blood

His psalms emanate power
Beset with lightning and thunder
As you slip into trance 
You swear allegiance to dance