• As the rhythm begins
    The enemy starts it’s move
    He stands his ground
    And whispers under the screams of war
    “I’ve got to do this”
    He grabs the scythe with both hands
    And starts his last battle
    As the rhythm picks up
    Heads roll faster
    The scythe becomes bloodier
    Then a rain of arrows fly
    But in a blink of the eye
    All the arrows fall flat
    Slashed in half by his weapon
    Then he falls flat
    Shot in the back by the betrayers arrow
    Dead is the warrior of the scythe
    At the hands of betrayal
    Morned he is not
    For all know
    What will become of his soul
    And they will see him again
    He is the next reaper in line
    And his time to step up is,
    NOW!