16 August 2012
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
The Grim Reaper • Opuss № I