A graveyard"s rusty creaking gate
Obeys the wind's urge to create
An atmosphere sliced open by the knife
The dark his blanket from the cold
A flying fox's wings unfold
His take off brings the dead of night to life
A mist rolls over antique stone
He tips he's not in here alone
As something scurries quickly out of sight
His isolation closes in
The reek of his most recent sin
Is sensed by every creature of the night
The demons want to flay the lot
A witch shines up her cauldron ***
The werewolfs put their bid in for the bones
A vamp already claimed the blood
The organs bring a tidal flood
One zombie and her thirty seven clones
Fears roots hold firmly to the ground
A screeching almost deafening sound
Has cleared the field with supersonic stealth
The gods he always heard were near
Decided not to interfere
The big man's here and wants him to himself