Among the crypts and grey tombstones
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The Spirits did appear
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Where life escaped but not the souls
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Mortally bound in fear
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Their voice is like a whisper
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Appearance brief and fey
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Visions of holy sinners
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Not seen by light of day
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Spirits Of The Dead
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Holy Fire
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Burning the brain
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Crossed with desire
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Reincarnate
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They stood before, here
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Now laid to rest
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Trapped by their own fear
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To make The Quest
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[CHORUS]
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Spectres climbing through the mist
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Where the mourners tread
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Apparitions from the past
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Eyes now orbs of red
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They're Spirits Of The Dead
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Born of The Fire
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I have come
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Unto The Fire
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I shall return
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Know well thy soul's path
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Don't bar it's way
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Hell has the last laugh
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For those who stay
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[CHORUS]
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Spirits Of The Dead
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Manilla Road |