Those Who Serve

Oh, those horror-filled yells.

What a tale, there terror tells.

In the shivers of the night,

We all quiver with fright.

From every sound of there mire notes.

To the rust that sits there, gagging there throats.

Deep and calling, a solemn word.

Oh, a torture sound like we never heard.

Lasting, calling, horrid yells.

What a tale, there terror tells.
Even now we have lost our sight.

Least none suffer from horrid blight.

By the screams and the spire notes.

From the rust, deep within there throats.

Melancholy silent words,

Ah, a torture sound like we never heard.

Dilapidated, deadly yells,

What a tale, there terror tells.

At the joy we have during the night.

Joy and happiness, without fright.

At every sound of the deadly notes.

To the rust, hung in your throat.

Unleashing those sin stained nerves.

Oh that sound, of those who serve.