Faustcoven

Black riders

Faustcoven
Far in the horizon, there gathers a storm
And if you look closely, you'll see the approaching lords
Chrome shining in the desert sun
Black Riders from the pits of hell

Run while you can feeble man
Tonight we'll visit your womens beds
Lay waste the house of your god
Impale the priest upon our horns

We're riders of the apocalypse
Drink the beer and spill the blood
Riders of the apocalypse
Born to raise hell and that's a fact

Tonight we're only passing by your lovely town
Destroying to serve our lord

Its safe to say they look mean
Goathorns will do that to a demon
As if that was not enough:
Look at the swords they've brought
Skulls hang from their wings
That's always a bad sign

Riders of the apocalypse
Born to raise hell and that's a fact
Riders of the apocalypse
Born and raised in hell

Are you looking at me?
Wipe that grin of your face!
I've met men like you before
So many from where I come

You know where you're going
Eternal pain and suffering
Can't you feel the beckoning abyss
I will take you there

I've heard the souls of hell, as they plead
A second of alleviance from aeons misery

With one hand I crush his skull
Another soul to the pits of hell
With each day that passes by
We grow strong and many

Now that the land lays waste
The riders move on
If you watch the horizon tonight
You might see them come

SOLO FOR SATAN!

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