...and Madness - Dunsmuir

Running through the lava fields at night

Chasing after laughter of mad acolytes

The Jesuit is not who he claims to be

A dark imposter of nefarious machinery

Echoes of ancient incantation

Metered in the rhythm of a forbidden language

They must be stopped before they call the name

Their lust for the unknown has driven them insane

Genius and madness brothers of a kind

To your scattered bodies go time after time

Begging for a copy of the book of common prater

No natural philosophy will never help me here

Their will is not their own they’re only pieces in a game

Captive to the mysteries of some infernal plane

Tempest of lightning, sulphur and ash

The madman raises silver daggers in his hands

He sees me running for him and braces the hit

I take him by the neck and into the pit