Where will you be in the judgment hour?
Maybe trapped like a rat in the dungeons of power

Some may dance, entrapped, entranced, adrift in the tall grass and flowers
and never know that far below lay victims in dungeons of power
In chilling dark they bite and bark in caverns dank and dour
turning souls to blackened coal, mere harbingers of power
Until the end their will must bend as slowly they turn sour
the brazen force of fierce remorse locked in the dungeons of power
Now castles fall through sacred halls and predict the judgment hour
Their demon seed the ancient feed that godlike you devour
Sneering lips and cracking whips invigorate your power
while iron fists tear and twist and make all brave men cower
The master mind still spins and whines, your malice falls in showers
while a darkened voice removes all choice
and lures you through dungeons of power