In an oaken high seat

An aura of ghastly presence

Eyes of evil, dead stare

Do you wanna get possessed?


Evil has many forms

Frightened by fate

Harvest the living

You don't wanna get possessed?


Buried beneath stones

Still there's fear in the air

It doesn't matter anyway

You are possessed


Reaping thy brother

Rebellion from the graves

This is just the beginning

Of a terror march unleashed