• On dark wings death doth swiftly come for thee
    His grim voice could be heard throughout the air
    Perched above, he sits in a willow tree
    Eyes so empty they hold me in their stare
    His mission constant, it never fails
    Your time will inevitably run out
    Your pursuer follows, extremely pale
    Foot falls silently in the hazy mist
    His icy weapon slices through lifes threads
    Be careful you may be next on the list
    When he comes upon you, you will be dead
    You may even be drawing your last breath
    And then you will know the rivers of death.