It lies within these walls of stone,
and waits to take it's flight,
Corroded flesh and skeletal bone,
evil moves in the night.

The witching hour comes around,
as hell continues to burn,
ghouls creep up from the ground,
devils and demons return.

As in the dark age,
when they were called Druids,
so shall they rise from every grave,
possession the corpse's fluids.

The stench of rot will fill the air,
bringing horror at it's best,
grisly casting a horrid stare,
your sanity is put to the test.

These creatures will roam far and near,
filling the living with dread,
a panic shall rise, a petrified fear,
Fear of the Living Dead.