Thrice the bell tolls for the lost,
The number of the slain,
And the mourners, lining up:
The loss is earthly gain.

Their lives and souls, given up,
Sacrifice to the damned,
Blood collect'd, in sacred cup,
Nobody raises a hand.

And now the ritual is complete,
The terror has been done.
The creature comes, evil elite,
The unholy blood will run.