Текст: HIM (His Infernal Majesty). Borellus.

Essential salts of animals
Be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious man
May have the whole Ark of Noah in his own
Study and raise the fine shape of an animal
Out of its ashes at his pleasure
Ahhh, ahhh
Oh

Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood
Bring only fear and sadness
Oho, yes lovely
Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours
In vast and dismal chambers
With brown hangings
And maddening rows of antique book
Watch them in twilight groves
Oh,in twilight groves
Oh,in twilight groves
Ah

By method from the essential salts
Of human dust
A philosopher may call up the shape
Of any dead ancestor
From the dust where into his body
Has been incinerated, incinerated, incinerated

You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned
He's returning in every newborn child
In every newborn child
In every newborn child

Essential salts of animals may
Be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious man
May have the whole Ark of Noah in his own
Study and raise the fine shape of an animal
Out of its ashes at his pleasure

You're under pressure
Christ has returned
He's returning in every newborn child

You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned
He's returning in every newborn child
In every newborn child