A Terror Old

"That cold ain’t the weather. That’s death approaching."

For you we brave the bitter cold
For you our dead hearts pound
For you we put a strangle hold
on your silent sleeping town

As silent as the snow we make our play
Here you were born, here you will stay
We creep around you where you lay
and drain your veins without a sound

Clothed black with pale face
We watch you cattle as you graze
We cannot help but love the pain
as the terror in your blood is found

We'll bleed the whole town fucking dry
Feel the rush from panic in your eyes
As you direct your screams into the sky
But you won't be found tonight

For you we brave the bitter cold
For you our dead hearts pound
For you we put a strangle hold
and return you to your hallowed ground