It was a numinous night, wet and cold like the last week of autumn
I felt a shiver dividing my bones from the top to the bottom
And there were two of me then, one part flesh and the other a phantom
To the phantom I said, get behind me, ye vamp of Diablo
It said, you speak out of turn, I am born of the shadow inside you
And I have lived in your heart and with it I've become quite accustomed
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame
I grow sick of your lies and your games
Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
It was a coward's decision when I offered you sanctuary
I knew it, right then and there that our cartel would be my undoing
But I, rationalized and believed every mangled half truth
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame
I grow sick of your lies and your games
Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain
I grow sick of your whispered betrayals
Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto
Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame
I grow sick of your lies and your games
Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me

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