You feel something very deep within you.
A pulsation, a vibration,
at first very timidly, then with power.
Robbes your senses,
takes away your light,
/>until something breaks from the soul,
as the day dies,
it looks from you
and the clock strikes midnight.
Believe, that was denied you,< br/>climbs through the window as a superstition.
When it gets dark in the house,
then the ghosts come.
Hammer, saw, cleaver,
just look at what they do brought with you.
You join in their dance,
and the clock strikes midnight.
The next day,
what a scream.
They found the dead man cut open.
Soaked in blood,
decorated with wounds,
oh how the poor man suffered.
And no one suspects
what happened there.< br/>Who killed the farmer?
Fear reigns,
The moon rises,
and the clock strikes midnight.
If the door fails you when the light is on ,
you climb through many a back window,
and with madness in your eyes
you lead to the night ghosts.
Haunt those who deny you
in your sleep you killed her.
A wild dance in her blood
and the clock strikes midnight.
In daylight, no night ghost
Just a madman in the market place
The Ax shouldered,
A mountain of corpses.
A whole village is just staring at you.
The hatred in their eyes, stunned.
There in the middle, foaming at the mouth,< br/>there the mob rages, death reigns,
kill you like a dog.
And your body will be burned,
nothing will remain of you.
Everyone , who once knew you,
will avoid your name from now on.
Belief, that was denied to you,
climbs through the window as superstition,
when it gets dark in the house,
/>Come all the night ghosts.
Blood and bones, fresh flesh,
Just look at what they brought with them,
In their madness you join in,
And the clock falls asleep gt midnight.
Midnight!