Criss-cross, leather straps 3 marks the spot Circle that, don’t look back Or you might get caught The mourning cloak devils Will show you no mercy They’re the asylum rebels Considered to be unworthy 3 knives in your back your blood runs cold, cold, cold 3 rats down your back They scurry as they come, come, come Close your eyes, and you’ll hear The echoes of their screams You better run before they come Or you’ll see them in your dreams.