Death trembles beneath my feet, it shudders in my wake.

Pulsing with my every heartbeat, every breath I take.

Fields of stone and broken glass, and chrystallized human souls.

Dreams of a forgotten path, and the silent bell that tolls.

Bones embedded in the statues, were long ago a living man.

And dawn with its radiant hues, has nothing for this shadowed land.

Statues lined, they marked the graves, where great heroes fell.

Souls drifting in a daze, under death's witching spell.

I walk the unholy lands, where angels fear to tread.

And hand in skeletal hand, I wander with the dead.