(Ulrich Roth)

Dark night, there is no light

In the realm of the black magic man

Soul's flight into the cold blight

Of the destroyer's magic land

Poor man, whose spirits are stronger

They're a little too weary

You're starting to...



Blind man, you're suckin' your own blood

Soon black magic's dying

You'd better start crying



Blind man, you're suckin' your own blood

Soon black magic's dying

You'd better start crying



Throw out your evil desire

The dark king's kingdom is

Made out of mire



Throw out your evil desire

The dark king's kingdom is

Made out of mire



Keep on for the kingdom of light

There is no darkness, there is no night