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Fetid Zombie
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The Cold Grip of Death
The funeral mist, the cold pouring rain
Enshrouds my flesh, and chills my veins
The call of death, the toll of the knell
Pierces my soul and consumes this icy shell
Unbearable loss, the heaviness of grief
The burden of existence, never put to sleep
Pursued by the scythe, eternally reaped
The bearer called death, buries me deep
It's so cold
It's so dim
This dank grave
Invites my corpse within
It's so cold
It's so grim
My flesh crumbles
From my rotten skin
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