Thirteen gather on a moonless night
The morning star is burning bright
Doom-mantia
Followers, they sing and dance
The pipes of Pan have weaved a trance
Dressed in black
No turning back
Doom-mantia
The morning star is burning bright
Doom-mantia
Followers, they sing and dance
The pipes of Pan have weaved a trance
Dressed in black
No turning back
Doom-mantia