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Four Horsemen

de Christian Death

Coming with the clouds
Hair white as wool
Myriads of myriads
They walk in the mist
Eyes like a fiery flame

Happy are they that hear
The first born of the dead
Coming with the clouds

I was already awake at the time
I could have been drunk
Why not, it was a good time for it
Heh, drink up

Death was coming at me from all corners
Is it Friday the thirteenth already?
The first and the last
With the keys of death

Hidden in the dens of the rocks
Of the mountains from four horsemen
Like a lion, one a bull
Faceless creature flying like an eagle

Eating things sacrificed to idols
Will blot out your name
Diadems and fornication
Self-denial, now that is something

A crown, a bow and a white horse
Half-open lips stunk of perfume
Sounding an enormous trumpet

Hidden in the dens of the rocks
Of the mountains from four horsemen
Like a lion, one a bull
Faceless creature flying like an eagle

Gold and incense
What was his name?

A glassy, sea-like crystal
Black as a sack cloth of hair
And a white pebble

Ah hell, get ready now
'Cause we are all coming

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