Death's Den
Sky is growing dark,
night is coming quickly.
Have to make it back,
or death will come swiftly.
Should never have went in,
and awoken the beast.
My life is for its taking,
or my head at least.
Running as fast as possible,
it is closing in.
Who would’ve thought it plausible,
for Death to rise again?
Finally I am caught,
tortured 'til my end.
My head I possess not,
it rests in Death’s den.
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