(B. Dickinson/ A. Smith)
So this is dreamtime, and all is quiet,
So this is dreamtime and all is night,
You've never been held by the hand of God,
Who's rocking your cradle, if he is not?
He turned the oil into his blood,
Panzer divisions burning in the mud,
The stain of freedom he's washed it out,
Who's rocking the cradle, I have no doubt.
Sleeping eyes awake,
To see his hooded gaze,
Whispers on the wind,
The darker side of ecstasy.
Satan has left his killing floor,
Satan has left his killing floor,
Satan hell fires burn no more,
Satan has left his killing floor.
So now it's dreamtime for you tonight,
So now it's dreamtime and all is quiet,
You've never been held by the hand of God,
Who's rocking your cradle if he is not?
Sleeping eyes awake,
To see his hooded gaze,
Whispers on the wind,
The never ending breath goodbye.
Satan has left his killing floor,
Satan has left his killing floor,
Satan his fires burn no more,
Satan is coming back for more.
Satan has left his killing floor,
Satan has left his killing floor