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