Songtexte: HIM. Borellus.

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... 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 books, watch them in twilight groves, oh in twilight groves, oh in twilight groves... Ah...

By method from the essential salts of humane 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 and every new born child,
And every new born child...
You're under pressure baby...
Christ has returned, he's returning and every new born child,
And every new born child...
And every new born 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 oh study, and raise the fine shape of animal out of its ashes at his pleasure...

You're under pressure baby...
Christ has returned, he's returning and every new born child,
And every new born child...
You're under pressure baby...
Christ has returned, he's returning and every new born child,
And every new born child...