Darkness falls across the land,
The midnight hour is close at hand,
Creatures crawl in search of blood,
To terrorize your neighborhood.
And whom so-ever should be found,
Without the soul for getting down,
Must stand and face the hounds of hell,
And rot inside a corpse's shell.
The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty-thousand years,
And grisley ghouls from every tomb,
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive,
Your body begins to shiver,
For no mere mortal can resist,
The Evil of the Thriller!
No I didn't write this myself. I took it off of Michael Jackson's Thriller CD. It is one of my favorites.
 ~Legendary Black Wolf · Thu Oct 06, 2005 @ 12:59am · 0 Comments |
