If you ever travel along highway 666,
And night comes,
Beware the screech of tires,
Unholy calls and mad incantations,
And the smell of sulfur,
The Hellraisers may be near.
Where they ride,
The damned rise from the depths,
And pillars of flame tower up,
To an orchestra of demon cries,
Where they ride,
The very world reels in fear.
Riding out from a hellhole of a bar,
Riding atop scorching metal steeds,
They claw streaks of flame,
Into hallowed ground,
They laugh in the face of the heavens,
Drunk on mayhem and whiskey.
Leather-clad and riddled with tattoos,
Black sunglasses and infernal grins,
And boots that reek of oil and gore,
They curb-stomped the angels,
And kneecapped your Savior,
The heavens went up in a sawnoff blast.
They are chaos incarnate,
They ride to an apocalypse,
That only they can see.
WorldofHarley 