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Lo, my Reaper to thy beloved How hath looked upon me bold? When the Rains have happened there of And left your Legacy in Gold.
The Grim Reaper is cold And heartless they say, But I despise taking souls. Each life I take, I feel as if I decay. The innocents who die
Thus the Reaper picked up his tools, He took to his hands the metals forged in blood, He reached for the scythe with anger and wrath, According to his oath he upheld his mantle. Looking towards the foggy moors,
He Comes To Take Your Soul At Its Peak Hopefully You've Enjoyed Your Last Treat In Your Head You Wonder Who You'd Meet God In His Sanctuary Of Clouds Or Satan In His Fiery Pits Of Hell
Trembling, he sits and waits for the news. Something terrible happened. His mother had called him in the middle Of a chemistry test, His favorite class. “Tyler,” she had said “I need you, come home.”
Bright eyes glowing