Criss-cross, leather straps
3 marks the spot
Circle that, don’t look back
Or you might get caught
The mourning cloak devils
Will show you no mercy
They’re the asylum rebels
Considered to be unworthy
3 knives in your back
your blood runs cold, cold, cold
3 rats down your back
They scurry as they come, come, come
Close your eyes, and you’ll hear
The echoes of their screams
You better run before they come
Or you’ll see them in your dreams.