Into the crypt, cloaked by moonless night

I read the stone in dim candle light

The one I seek lies cold, all alone

Gathering remains to burn to dust from bone

Inquisition oft he dead, rising up from dust

Holy wisdom of the dead, ancient secrets are mine!

From human dust, the shape begins to rise

Appearing now no longer putrefied

Speak unto me of that which I seek

And be forever returned to dust

Inquisition oft he dead, rising up from dust

Holy wisdom of the dead, ancient secrets are mine!

Tomb throated screams descend and arise

The world is a grave, where all wisdom lies!