The still waters of the swampland smell like death and feel like fear.
Dangling moss whips through the wind as darkness nears.
The sun fades and the moon appears.
Mirrors reflect the otherside, the call, the ritual, and the cries.
Shelter is formed for the wandering souls.
Faint music fades through the red, red, rain.
Nightmares reflect awful pain.
Realities fall with the red, red, rain.
Danger unfolds and mystery remains.
Doors swing open decades of truth.
Practice of darkness in pursuit.
In the fall of the red, red, rain.
Laughter unlocks the secret again.
Chemistry reveals a code to explode.
Imaginations disconnect and identity unfolds.
The spirit world glides isolation to cold, with the parted soul,
that run through the red, red, rain.
Orbits the swampland in the call of the wild.
On this great journey, mile after mile.
