These Are They - Behind the Door

Fading lights, dim the clock-tower face.
Evening trains cloak the night with filthy air.
To the levee, gunners steel, cold and blue.
Insane killers, for tonight we are loose.

What's behind the door?
Do we see the mystery?
Do we feel the welcoming?
What's behind the door?
Cheap women, flowing wine.
Four Deuces, where devils lie.

Roaring gunfire, smashing mirrors, patrons flee.
Armed with shadows, gunmen play with deadly means.
Trapdoor victims, you are now marked for death.
A vengeance rising, slicing you from your breath.

What's behind the door?
Do we see the mystery?
Do we feel the welcoming?
What's behind the door?
Cheap women, flowing wine.
Four Deuces, where devils lie.

Four floors of sin, the pleasures of the flesh.
Set aside you conscience, partake with out a shame.
Choose you poison, satisfy the crave.
A game of chance or the company of a whore.

Night work terror, calling forth patrons souls.
Grieving widows cry of death amidst the blood.
Poison flowers, tears of sweat from her eyes.
Rushed away in the night they die

What's behind the door?
Do we see the mystery?
Do we feel the welcoming?
What's behind the door?
Cheap women, flowing wine.
Four Deuces, where devils lie.