The shadows of horsemen on leather steeds draw near;

With the sounds of gallops in the heavy thick fog;

These faceless reins have come to ride you into

an unknown fear;

Out in the distance, cries and screams fade away;

There is no noise to hear, but the clashing of souls

to see who wins the fight;

Some will go to the tunnel of bright, the others will spend

their lives in an endless dark of night;

At this time six blows by Gabe, is the horn that sounds

tells the good to raise;

The ones with wings and halos that fly in formation, but

the ones I chose are like strong horse riffs, and your

last ride with the, "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."