Send the dead back to death
With a black sheath
Slice him in half as the leaf falls
Erase the memories that are false
A soul reaper's a scary man
But no so if he holds a fan
Using his death scythe he rips you off
Off with your soul and jump from the loft
A butler's a hell of a man
The devil is near he'll stand on land
Wherever I go he looks at me
With eyes that can see
Blinded by the light I'm now dead
My only meal was a bread
I'm the dead and I've been killed
But truly they say I was skilled
YOU ARE READING
Paraphrased
Ficção GeralEverything with inspired content under the sun, the moon, and the stars. Inside rooms, under the covers, at Starbucks, and every place with a paper and pen.
