The Grim Reaper

Beady red eyes
Pitch black hair
You'll rule
The darkening air

Bones of a live man
Blood of the dead
Give people something
Worth having dread

A ravens feather
As dark as night
He'll be King of the Shadows
Causing an extreme fright

Fog of a death cloud
For his shadowy cloak
He shan't walk at all
Only float

A hundred souls
And 5 wilting roses
A bringer of death
For lust imposes

3 tablespoons of acid rain
7 drops of rationalization
He shall be a hypocrite
With understanding and tranquility

1 tear from a dove
For him to drag sadness
Where-ever he goes
There'll be a big mess

A pound of fear
A staff of souls
Now each death he brings
He shall grow

Now here he lurks
In the shadows and night
We call him The Grim Reaper
Who delivers many a fright