Search results for 'hooded cloak'

Yee yee! We've found 16 lyrics, 7 artists, and 4 albums matching hooded cloak.


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you kept this one's left in bits
And all your magic tricks
Are magic

So put your hooded cloak on
And go out and find yourself some fun

Won't you spur
light it up
Pull up out the f**king mud
Still stuck in this f**king rut

I've Spent my whole life f**king up...

I am the one that haunts your mind
So your just broke 
No need to smoke with the old folk
Your IQ is with the heard of the moke 
You with your hooded cloak
Makes you a visual joke
at the stakes
Rather a hooded cloak
I dont fuck with capes
Trails can go cold
And I'll still find a way
Ones progression isnt limited
To copy and paste
We look skyward
With hooded cloaks
And rotting hands
We receive
Our grim commands
A quest for power
Forgotten lore
Perilous pleasures
A terrible
of change

Night time came in hooded cloaks
Slides through starlight and eyelids
A crushing smile into me goes
The last wish
Falls into view
She saw inside my mind
She gave me all the time
That I needed to return to her side as I am
But the treasure buried itself
It hid in its hooded cloak
Connected by paths of emerald sand
Have you seen the things I've seen?
Been visited by phantom beings?
Haunted by those in hooded cloaks
scatter like shattered glass when cars crash
We out in Europe metamorphing into Euro trash
I'm Clark Griswald searching for my German cousins
Hooded cloaks
What lurks as the pesticides spray evil's dust,
Killing life's roses so red?
Hooded, defeated, as a cloak hides a name
Making my mind demented
Called a good man, a bloke
By a hooded man, in a cloak
You mere mortal
Popping out the flesh portal
Blessing royals
Investing in oil
Whilst i'm trying test
in time
The time to face the hooded figure we created
And now
This is no longer inside us
But outside us with the intention to bust
The foundations set
I'm sorry, not a masked man, a hooded man and you can-
You don't see his face, it just shows the hood and he has on like, a cloak
And he speaks to me
The silent hooded Boatman stares ahead
With pale white fingers and blackened nails like claws upon his oar
With his pitch-black cloak rippling like
And hear the screams 
Of multitudes in panic
We recognize the one and true God
Death we worship thee!
Weave us into your blackened cloak
And sail across
and the most revered and expensive mercenary in the Imperium. At his left, the infamous Ogre-Mage of the Black Lake brooded silently, swathed in a stygian cloak

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