Angel of Death

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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,
When you see him coming you know it's the end. Riding on his horse. His eyes Black and Soulless. His wings as dark as night. He holds out his hand. One touch is it all it takes. To take away all your
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