Always sleep with the lights on,
The demons will soon be here.
Slaves unto death of the Satan's son,
They feel neither remorse nor fear.
They do what they are wrought to do,
Carnage in their wake they leave.
And then all one can do is rue
One's fate: and at the loss of lives grieve.
See that distante dark cloud of dust?
It's them coming, run away fast.
They can not be killed, they rise again,
They have what has to be the curse of life.
Full of power, yet they know not how to be vain,
They recognise only the language of the knife.
See that approaching deadly cloud of dust?
Run if you value your life, run away fast.