In the summer of 1692
The puritan ways have come to rule
The village of Salem a breeding ground of mass hysteria
A time of fear no self control
Demons and spirits, evil souls
Dark times, superstitions, the devils at every door
Suspicions become obsessions
Accusations of the occult
Guilty through association
Spill the blood of innocents
Nineteen men and women now bear the witches mark
Violence in the air, they die alone in the dark
As they march up the Gallows Hill, await their final hour
Screaming in fear please set them free
The mob shouts, hang from the tree
Fingers point, passed judgment, a noose around your neck
Suspicions become obsessions
Accusations of the occult
Guilty through association
Spill the blood of innocents
Nineteen men and women now bear the witches mark
Violence in the air, they die alone in the dark
As they march up the Gallows Hill, await their final hour
First you are...
Afflicted...you are accused
Sacred...by the unknown
Obsession...unholy rituals
Accused prey on the poor forcing their lies
Guilty
In the night...
As they walk in the night
Through the trees by the shrine in the glimmering light
As they make the climb up the slope
And they stare at the knotted rope
They swing under blackened skies
No chance to question why
The darkness the mourners cry
The long walk on the Gallows Hill where the innocent were sent to die
On Gallows Hill they died...
On Gallows Hill they died...
On Gallows Hill they died...
Where the innocent were sent to die
On Gallows Hill they died...
On Gallows Hill they died...
On Gallows Hill they died...
On Gallows Hill they died...
Where the innocent were sent to die
On Gallows Hill they died...

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