Here in the darkest recesses of this hallowed ground,
do I sit in my shredded clothes lamenting my soul,
what trickery is this that my spirit should spout forth such a distasteful drone,
welcome one and all says the banner of my grimace,
let me show you some wonders to behold,
such cordial tales in this darkest of catacombs ,
come feast on these bleached bones,
oh retched man am I,
set aside all thoughts for the morrow,
for here is my curtain call,
hanging from the hands of a faceless clock.