UnderTaker SongThe shadow of the Undertakercreeps across your floor.Go lock up all your childrenAnd paint blood upon your door.These hills are filled with whispersOf a man all dressed in blackAnd the toll of death's now, He climbs from hellTo drag some poor soul backThat ol' bible tells of angelsDoing service unto the lordThe Undertaker knows no masterHe drinks from any cup poured.Just as Banshees wail their warningThat someone that same day will dieThe Undertaker, he states the sameI'll be goddamned if he tells a lieThe Undertaker raises no hand,But I'll fear him, just the same…His presence pre-tells both blood and death
Sta.sh
