"We are the midnight people,.. Hunters of nightmares and fears,.. We are used to face the death.. Trembling figures running at the moonlight... .. We are the deafening screams of the dead,.. Taken from the womb of our dead mother,.. Risen among crusted blood and carrion... Dressed in our burial drapes... .. We are not dead not alive.. Fleshless corpses with empty eyes.. Crosses made of ROCK.. GRAVE CROSS