Thirteen cultistsnHeld a secret meeting,nBringing powers of the darknessnUpon those who opposed them.nThe cheif of the circle,nKnown as Malchiusndrank the blood of a young babynOffered unto him.nnThey danced ecstatically,nThe orgied frantically.nThe demon had arisennFrom the circle on the floor.nThe chanting was much loudernAnd more piercing than before.nnThey are seven.nThey are seven.nSeven are they.nOut of the abyss they rise,nWhen day sinks into darkness.nSeven are they.nnCoven in charing cross...nCoven in charing cross...nnSoon, a certain familynLiving in the village,nWould die one by one bynThe curse of the cult.nThe head of the family,nA witchhunter named Mead,nhad burned their leadser at the stake;nSoon he'd regret his deed.nnPain from Devil's we evoke!nThirst and suffer til he'd choked.nThe magic did take overnAnd the soul did feel the roar.nIncantations were much loudernAnd more piercing than before.nnBorn in the bowels of the hillsnEvil ones, sources of ills.nSetters of unseen snares,nDeath to all pity, all prayers.nMale they are not.nFemale they are not.nNo wives have they known.nNo children begot.nThe fiends they are seven,nDisturbers of heaven.nThey are seven.nThey are seven.nSeven they are.nnCoven in charing cross...nCoven in charing cross... n