One, two, Freddy comes for you
Three, four, better lock your door
Five, six, grab a crucifix
Seven eight, gonna stay up late
bastard son of 100 maniacs
killing children for his own pleasure
justice was never granted
so the parents increased the preasure
When the night comes creeping
you better run for your life
otherwise your breath is fading
and Freddy grind his knife
Do not sleep, get no rest
or he will hunt you in your dreams
and you don’t want a knife in your back
burnt alive –that‘s how he paid
no chance to escape
vengance will be mine – are his last words
and into shadows he fade
The Brazilian metal outfit teaches a lesson in exemplary thrash, delivering palm-mute chugging, dexterous fretwork, and infuriated-but-intelligible vocals on every song Bandcamp Album of the Day Jan 21, 2021