From the darkness, Samedi rises,
it is our souls that he prizes,
to feed upon and to focus,
its how death does his hocus pocus.

Cancer, diabetes and the rot,
not diseases but things time forgot,
freed again as humans spread,
increasing the numbers of our dead.

Buried things lay hibernating,
thousands of years, they have been waiting,
legends and myths and dragons too,
we simply do not have a clue.

Once awoken, no turning back,
we are running down the track,
pandora's box thrown open wide,
nothing at all can stem the tide.