The Black Dahlia Murder what a horrible night to have a curse

This twisted wretched place shadowed by the utmost darks of hell In dreams of black beyond the bounds of a withered witch s spell Where the doors surely are locked when the sun threatens to wane Where shamblers dwell in dim moon light beyond the warmth of day Liars line the roads at dawn watchful eyes are upon you held Sacred weapons to the sacred revealed to be unleashed upon the council of hell Blood flows down the streets at night where wolves cry out for flesh Where a horrible curse taints the woodland