Concealed in murkiness and gloom,
Cloaked by shadows of night,
Unknowingly hidden in the tomb,
The Shade prepares Its flight.
The list has been made,
Death is coming soon!
No longer delayed,
Time to give boon.
The time has arrived,
The chains finally shattered.
Now for all It had strived
It could do what had mattered.
At last freedom to the Ghost,
Under the blood-red moon.
He can finally fulfill His boast.
But He only has until noon.
The Specter goes to do the deed,
She does it without fail.
The Wraith listens to no plead,
She does it through many a wail.
In the morn some people wake,
Many will never again rise.
But life They may have to take.
The phantoms claim Their prize.