The midnite hour is close at hand
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize y'alls neighbourhood
And whosoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpsey shell
The foulest stench is in the air
The funk of forty thousand years
And grizzy ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom
And thogh you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller
No comments:
Post a Comment