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  • 曲谱信息
  • 歌词
  • 标题:A Shrine to Madness

    艺人:The Black Dahlia Murder

    专辑:Ritual

    制谱人:Matt Rizik

    指示:PRESS F5!!

    附注:
    The intro is in free time, but I did the best I could to tab it.

    节拍: Moderate ♩ = 150

    注释:PICK SCRAPESPICK SCRAPES
    歌词:
    "Let us go out this evening for pleasure for the night is still young!"
    Let us dance skeletally,
    The chill of the autumn is stirring in me.
    Let us rape, let us murder,
    A night to sate thine perverted desires,
    A night on which to watch them die,
    To see the life whisked from the inside.
    A night so black as Satan's hide,
    When the masks of mockery shall disguise our wicked eyes.
    To the death of all,
    Celebrate the empty breath of fall.
    The 31st twill not go silent so long as evil doth dwell in man.
    Devils night t'was a scorcher,
    But on this eve we bring hell.

    Here in the season of the dead,
    Sanity hangs by a thread.
    We're descendants of the dark,
    Give us back our one true love.
    Manifest all hallows eve,
    Samhain grim our one true love.
    No you shant kill Halloween,
    For we've bore it in our blood.

    Embrace ye the brown leafed vertigo,
    For this undead night we have sold our souls.
    Hoist ye this black flag of blasphemy,
    Lift high this emblem of hate,
    Return the jackolanterns smile on this holiday,
    For the defiled shed the thorned binds of Christ's denial,
    And son let the devil in,
    Cultus diabolous,
    Laus ut flamma,
    Cultus obscurum,
    Amplexus fatum.
    Rejoice now ye hellions of Earth,
    A glimpse of a future not far,
    When the dark one is said to return,
    Blackening this planet with ire.

    Let us rape,
    Let us murder,
    A night to sate thine perverted desires.
    A thrill that cannot be quantified,
    To warm one's hands upon arson's fires.
    May the spoils of this evening rot our teeth to the gums,
    May the treats of our enemies sever their lying tongues.

    Here in the season of the dead,
    Sanity hangs by a thread.
    We're descendants of the dark,
    Give us back our one true love.
    Manifest all hallows eve,
    Samhain grim our one true love.
    No you shant kill Halloween,
    For we've bore it in our blood.
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