The shadow of the Undertaker
creeps across your floor.
Go lock up all your children
And paint blood upon your door.
These hills are filled with whispers
Of a man all dressed in black
And the toll of death's kneel, He climbs from hell
To drag some poor soul back
That ol' bible speaks of angels
Doing service unto the lord
The Undertaker knows no master
He drinks from any cup poured.
Just as Banshees wail their warning
That someone that same day will die
The Undertaker states the same and
I'll be goddamned if he tells a lie
Some falsely say whippoorwills are the harbingers of death
It's the Undertaker's murder of crows that'll seize your li
I'm currently practicing my art skills and will soon be taking art classes. To anyone who sees this: note that I will not be unloading or updating anytime soon.