They'll come to you
From vile graves
With rubbery flesh
They're horned and black
They'll drag you deep
Into the chaos
To gulch of nightmares
They fly on wings
Your screams
A psalm to accompany
The moan of the Soggoths
The fiends of black
They have no face
Eternal ire
The price to pay
From the stars they ride winds
Through the gate
Where Azathoth dreams
Spawned in dismal, wretched graves
Chanting Yog Sothoth's praise
The creeping serpent's hiss
A numb orchestra's dirge
Pestilence their breath as venom
That scars your mourn with scorn
The fear inscests your soul
The night gaunts
They bring the ache
You shan't escape
The horrid heralds
The fiends of black
They have no face