• The mirror may shatter the mirror may fall,
    as the soldier lies dead and others crawl.
    covered in blood from the wounded hearts
    playing on the strings of a dead mans harp

    The mirror may crack the mirror may wither
    but edges stay sharp in a hand of a killer
    with whispers of a mother that sounds fair
    you heart and sould drops into dispair

    The mirror may crack the mirror may fall
    with hoarse voice they bockon and call
    to lead you to the world of the damned
    you may never leave the blood filled land