There's Talk of Strange Folk Abroad

The hooded scoundrels await their death
 We are of those chosen few
 They bare the marks of the sin
 They're nothing like us but they try to destroy our trust
 Their books and chants will harm none
 For we will stand strong, in the pit of the night
 For the arbolist is growing weak, and the servants die off
 Die off
 Die off
 (The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand)
 (The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand)
 (The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand)
 (The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand)
 The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand
 The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand
 The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand
 The time has come when there's no one left to hold your hand
 Stand my ground
 There is talk of strange folk aboard