March of the Fear Eaters

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Spooks and swallows lay in wait
For those of faint heart your plight is great
When all those rise from the depths of dead
None will stand not fastened stead.

In great darkness the storm come shake
Tomorrow be spoils some shall not make
Rise oh spirit from the great dark lake
And walk those streets you built with ache.

Those souls you protect, they shan't despair
For they don't even care
They call us demons, those who fare
But tonight they will have quite scare.

Tonight we feed on their dreadful stench
That of the girl down the street, nothing but a dreadful wench
The brother become a fretful bench.

Tonight the night the night my friends and me
On Old Hallows Eve we will not pay the living fee.





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