Текст песни Sweat Lodge - Banshee Call

one turned the corner
and saw a true ghost
one struck with fear
forever comatose
one left in wanting of potions release

walk the trodden trail
with never turning back
souls that turned to salt
litter these vagrant tracks
cut me deep within
and tread the razors path
burn these lips to blackened tips
and live this fatal lapse

madness has stricken
the wretched and wicked
who long for the taste of blood
the cold empty-hearted and dearly-departed
have nothing to offer this world
def to the noise
but i hear youre voice
calling me back home