The Gravedigger

The tireless work of the living for the dead.

The heat of my soul cuts through the graveyard's mere silence,

An insult to the dead, as I walk in defiance,

Shovel in hand, to the dead I'm the reaper,

I've been through Hell, then I dug even deeper,

Echoes of history, the crazed and the sane,

The bones turn to ashes and nothing remains,

The corpses defiled by Hell's endless burn

From earth you came to be, and to earth you return,

Still digging deeper, The last corpse found rest,

The demons are silent as the sinners are blessed,

I leave as I came, as silent as shadow,

Gone like the wind, flash like a sparrow,

And through the graveyard fog the ghosts slowly whispered,

Through the hands of the living, the dead are delivered