Cold dead grasp of a decaying zombie witch. Harlot in youth, grows to a Dead diseased *****. Green teeth protrude from Dead black gums, Infected festering flesh Swollen with old blood. Run Run Run, until your bones bleed Crash to your knees, listen for the horde. Wait to be ripped to bone. Enjoy the silence, no need to scream. Rotting nostrils flare stripped of skin. Red eyes filled with blood stained pus. Yellow nails, packed with dirt Open sores, rash ridden pores, Leaking viscose fluid. Reeking with filth Foot steps quake the ground Their scent fills the air Your caught in their stare. The devil rings the bell Thirteen ‘o’ clock, Your trapped in the, Cold dead grasp of a Decaying zombie witch.