Terror - Denial of God

A Shadow flees from Broadmoor

Sadistic Lunatic of the Night

The Curse of Whitechapel is coming

This Town will bathe in Blood tonight

The Night has glowing Eyes

The Stare of the unseen Evil

Lurking in the Darkness

Bringing ghoulish Upheaval

Hasty Steps on Cobblestone

The dank Fog chills your icy Bones

Run into my cold Embrace

The Gas Lamps won’t reveal my Face

Unlit Labyrinths of Alleys and Courts

My Home, my place of Crime

Victim’s Blood spiderwebs across Town

You’re running out of Time

«My Knife is so nice and sharp»

Your Names immortalized by my Hands

I slash your Throats from left to right

Deeds too abominable to talk about

All become far too real in this Night

I find my Pleasure in the Horrors of Death

My crimson Blade reflects your trembling Fear

I love to feel Life crumbling in my Hands

Whenever it is Dark I will be near

Your Faint Screams slowly drown in Blood

The crimson Stains, the Pride on my Cape

Feel my cold Instruments of Hell

As you realise there is no Escape

No one can stop my abysmal Deeds

Violently unfolding in the Alleyways

Neither Crosses nor foolish Prayer Beads

Can stop my nocturnal Blood Spray

Surgical Instruments in my Hands

The Rush of Blood takes me high

I perform with utter Precision

I laugh while you squeal and die

With Glee I stab and stab again

Hacking through Organs and Nerves

Your Body’s disposed in a Lane

And your Innards I preserve

«Catch me when you can»

I hate what you portray

I am ending your Disgrace

I cure East End’s Decay

For I am the Terror without Face