• The cold hand of Death takes hold of your soul
    You cried “Not now it’s too early for me.”
    His eyes were red and his cloak black as coal
    This was the last sight that your eyes did see.
    You fall into the pit of swirling mists
    The fiends come and take your soul to their pit.
    Their tortures all are written on their lists
    And on a throne of bones they dare to sit
    Your screams echo throughout the evil land.
    Your blood runs freely and the demons drink.
    The wails are accompanied by a band
    Sounds so terrible it makes your heart sink
    But then the blackness comes and all shall end
    Where all the wounds of soul and body mend.