- cifra
Dark night, there is no light
In the realm of the black magic man
Soul's flight into the cold blight
Of the destroyer's magic land
Poor man, whose spirits are stronger
They're the ones who will reign
You're struggles are in vain
Blind man, you're suckin' your own blood
Soon black magic's dying
You'd better start crying
Blind man, you're suckin' your own blood
Soon black magic's dying
You'd better start crying
Throw out your evil desire
The dark king's kingdom is
Made out of mire
Throw out your evil desire
The dark king's kingdom is
Made out of mire
Keep on for the kingdom of light
There is no darkness, there is no night
