Moon at their backs Bogfire in their eyes Vanished men return In crooked disguise Boot becomes hoof Prayer becomes hiss The Defiler counts And none are missed HEEL TO HOOF! BONE TO BOG! SKIN TO BARK! THE CURSE GOES ON! PROCESSION OF THE WICKED! Hear the wretched mourn! PROCESSION OF THE WICKED! See what darkness has become No grave behind No dawn ahead The mire lives Inside the dead MARCH! MARCH! MARCH! Let the wicked come!
