When the fog rolls in again
and the clock strikes three plus ten,
uniforms on medals pinned,
phantoms twisting in the wind.
Phantoms twisting in the wind,
those who let the demons in
see the truth with cold chagrin,
stand and face your mortal sin.
Stand and face your mortal sin,
thus the healing may begin,
shield your ears from Hade's din,
let not the devil's legions win.
Let not the devil's legions win,
behold the omen's earthly twin,
pounding hail on roofs of tin,
when the fog rolls in again.