Walking around the old oak tree.
In the dead middle of the night.
The great owl, floats over the cemetary.
While no other birds or animals take flight.
Watch your step beside the head stone.
Don't want to fall in one of these.
The pits are cauldrens, amalgamting souls
With just a spalsh of bitter, foggy breeze.
Candles lit beside the tombs
of the the beloved, the deceased.
Tall weeds wrap around the aged towers
And climb up the old willow trees.
Finaly we're there,Your open grave
A tombstone with your etched name.
Don't worry, dear don't be affraid
You are not the one to blame.
Death will be coming in a day or two
To take who is rightfuly his
you may make out with an extra minute
by avoiding deaths cold, sting of a kiss.
However the old wifes tale goes,
Or what religion taught you to beleive
It doesn't matter, fate is the cure
He will come for you in your sleep.
The last thing you will see before you die
Is the face of the one you dearly Fear
His name is beelzebub, aka Lucifer
And he is always right here.