• The Keeper Of The Crow

    Death Comes,
    When your loved ones must depart,
    He carries a great scythe,
    Used to cut out hearts.

    Death brings great feelings,
    Of sadness and pain,
    But when he comes for you,
    It'll be happiness I must sustaine.

    Death is who I call upon,
    To destroy my enemies,
    But when it comes to you,
    A different fiend you'll see.

    As the lights dim down,
    In the streets of hate,
    Another night falls,
    As you realize your fate.

    The stage is set,
    Come see the show,
    He'll hang you up high,
    And let the pain flow.

    You're the kind of worthless,
    The kind he hates the most,
    He'll tear the life from your body,
    Leaving you a worthless ghost.

    He dwells in the halls of Valhalla,
    Waiting for the great battle,
    He's so swift; The only noise you'll hear,
    Is your own death rattle.

    He is a God of Gods,
    Much more fearsome than the Reaper,
    I have but one name for him,
    I call him the Keeper.

    He's the keeper of two great wolves,
    Who hunger for your soul,
    But beware his flying pet,
    Because he's The Keeper Of The Crow.

    The Keeper brings me promise,
    That your death will be slow,
    He promises me that you are in,
    For more pain than you know.

    The Keeper is my companion,
    He'll bring you pain and hurt,
    While I sit here laughing,
    You're six feet in the dirt.

    No matter if it's famine,
    Nor freezing in the snow,
    One day he will come for you:
    The Keeper Of The Crow.