The Whitechapel Wolf

Walking upon the dark ground of London late at night and there’s not a soul there under the gas lamp’s fading light. I’m alone into the deep mist under a blood moon. I seek the strength to resist cause evil will come soon. He's Wicked, and he's heartless He’s come to cast his spell. The killer is in the darkness and he play the death knell. I hear in the night a terrible growl. It's the call of the beast, the Whitechapel wolf. The ripper has arrived and has his cold blade. Escape from the dark or it will be too late. The entity is now so near I feel it inside my mind he comes to feed from my fear and anguish makes me blind. I hear in the night a terrible growl. It's the call of the beast, the Whitechapel wolf. The ripper has arrived and has his cold blade. Escape from the dark or it will be too late.