These cameras are in place for your own protection, so
we can see your face and know who to question ?
should an unpleasant scene just happen to arise. To
keep things orderly, and know the truth and not your
lies!

We can see you through our cameras, and if we need
you, you can help us ? helpless scapegoat!

We'll cut?and?paste you, just like a bitmap, and on our
clipboard, you're caught in our trap!

You'll protest us, though no one will hear you. And if
you harm us? We'll delete you!

Don't try to seek us out, because we don't exist - that
is officially... but there's some truth in every myth! So,
always watch your back, and you should be prepared.
Not that it matters though, as we are hiding everywhere!

Out of the darkness of night it came, sweeping through
the town. lnfecting the people, they went insane ?
taking it lying down. Ones not infected by the diesese
found themselves hunted down by the infected, the
mindless mass ? a cannibal zombie Jonestown.

The virus, destroyer of the minds of the masses of
people, the fall of mankind. Survivors, hunted by the
dead, kill the fucking zombies, blow off their fucking
heads!

Horror survival training, your choice to live or die.
Gather the ammunition, and quell the zombie battle
cry. There is no sanctuary, a place to go and hide. An
ending to this madness, one day in hopes to find...

Keep to yourselves, they'll kill us all. Don't try to hide,
as they smell your fear. Live life in pain, they control
your thoughts. Chained to the walls, they own our
souls!

Hate and dishonour, death and decay, distorted vision,
Truth will see the light of day!

Fuck their politics, they have no truth. Their
interpretation of how we should be. I won't hand my
life to them, they'll have to take it by killing me!

Live thow you want, not how you're told, free for
yourself from the agony. You have the strength to kill
them all, decide your fate, not anyone else.

Fight for your rights or live their way, learn to be
strong ? we'll kill them all!

Opaque existence, hindered by death, can't conform to
resistance. Waking the dead ? cursed by their master
to serve as his slaves.

Clawing and climbing themselves from the ground, his
presence is there watching from all around. It is time
to prepare this hex on these monsters, this curse from
abound.

"Slaughter the women and children first," as the grim
master commanded, so shall it be, "leave noone
standing! Who's laughing at who, now he gets his
revenge!

Bodies are sprawled out, a pool of blood running, the
sounds all around of the asphyxiation. The cowering
masses hide from the one they once teased claiming
payback is all that they need.

Murderous Rampage, How do we stop what is already
dead? Damn the cursed! There must be a way, stop the
one who controls!

Gauging, hiding ascend up the crest, that's where he
hides, as the dead kills the rest. Behold his great
wisdom, he knew they were coming, their deaths would
be soon!

You're sitting, waiting gladly for the end of time and
the earth. The searing flames that will engulf all in a
cleansing rebirth. You're smugly praying to your god,
you know he'll favour your work He'll leave the heathen
ones to suffer, to stay left below.

Impatience rips and tears away, you feel the end will
be soon. At least, that's what you tell to those that you
feel are not immune. They ask for proof you cannot
give, then scoff in disgust to your face, and then they
say to you that "you'll have to prove it to me!"

You await the end so you can show that you will not
be left below!

As several years go by you soon find yourself close to
your death. Upon reflection of your life, you fear you've
wasted your breath. So, in a final panic you prey that
doomsday will take you away. But nothing happens as
you silently fade into gray.

Found on your face, a deviant smile, thoughts are
turning, people are burning, running around. A look
of fear found on their face, people turning, thoughts
are burning, you can't be found.

Objects lit on fire using nothing but your mind, inflict
immolation upon mankind.

A pile of flesh beneath your feet, a look of bliss, you
demonstrate mankind's defeat. A wave of hand, a blink
of eye, your magic tricks, they stand in awe, but they
must die!

A bloodline charged with ridding Dracula from the
land. They never fail to do so except Dracula has his
hand upon the dark art of necromancy, and a grasp
betwixt the times in which he lives and dies and lives
again!

You're born to vie in vain, to rid a curse insane.
Frivolous time serene, the curse returns again!

A whip in hand, and holy water strapped to the belt, a
sharpened wooden cross ? impaled black heart sure
death is dealt. Time and again, the vicious cycle repeats
once more for the Belmonts, Dracula laughs in their
face and gives them what for!

She was the daughter of a puritan preacher, a well-
respected man in his community. Thought to be cursed
by a witch at her birth, the others often steered clear
of her company.

For you see, her mother died when Emily was still inside.
Miraculously, she survived, greeted by a room that cried.

All was not well as her life developed She had bouts
of silence and ill-temperament. Often in church, she
would cover her ears. This would hurt her father and
enrage his peers.

She was called the devil's child, bewitched at birth,
contagious and wild. With harmful intentions and
feelings so vile, causing diseases and poxes and trials.

Emily Williams was to be put to the test, so all could
see, whether or not, officially, if she was a witch.

(Solo: Dennis & Ryan)

Brought before the town in full, was Emily roped to a
pole. They set her ablaze in hopes she would go, for if
she survived, so surely they'd know...
....that she was a witch!

Of course, the physical body of Emily Williams died. A
sigh of relief from the townsfolk, they thought that
they would be fine.

The ghost of Emily Williams so surely would take her
revenge, to right the ones that wronged her, to let her
spirit transcend.

Possessing the key perpetrators responsible for her
demise, Emily viewed them as traitors and sentenced
them to suicide!

Not rushing her task, she enjoyed it. She took pleasure
in their pain. Their fear was her vindication, for she
had felt the same!

And in the end, once her task was over, she would be
remembered as a martyred soul. Another life lost to
the senseless witch hunts, an exercise to kill what they
could not control.

Still, the townsfolk lived in fear, thinking that Emily
might reappear. In repentance, so sincere, with silent
vigils held each year.