Von Dead

Von Dead, creeping out the crypt in some scuffed-up Timbs

Grave dirt on the brim, shadows sink, no hymns

Face pale, soul frail, pockets heavy with sin

Death’s cousin on the prowl, let the story begin

Corpse pose, I froze, in a cemetery wind

Fangs sharp, leave a mark, where the moonlight’s dim

Eulogies whispered, broken vows on a whim

Blood-stained rosaries, life’s a vicious spin

Von Dead, Von Dead, walking where the living fled

Von Dead, Von Dead, stories that the tombstones said

Von Dead, Von Dead, echoes in the voices bled

Von Dead, Von Dead, can’t kill what’s already dead

Rats in the rafters, they dance to my laughter

Chalk lines drawn, I'm the final chapter

Funeral sermons, my verses burn faster

Scythe in my grip, I’m the reaper’s master

A clock with no hands, yet I’m counting the time

Every tick, every rhyme, every climb, every crime

Carve my name in the marrow, spine after spine

A legend etched in bone, call it death by design

Cold as a morgue, I’m the chill in the air

The creak in the floor, the hiss of despair

I’m the name that they whisper, the cross they don’t bear

Every shadow, every corner, you’ll find me there