W.A.S.P.

Fifty million miles below my feet
There's a lot of people
I'd like to meet
There's theives and killers
Harlots and whores
All were misguided
But not any more...
So I see their fate
In the black of the doom
Waves of fire in the storm
Creatures howl at the moon
They're screaming intensly
Their cries are heard for miles
A prince resides there
Lake of fools, burning wild




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