Cinerous Drops of November Rain.

Come, my children, the ones long forgotten...
Whose bodies are old, tattered...rotten.
You've been weary long enough, now is your time.
Follow my voice, and everything will be fine.

All of thy old, thy young, weak and strong...
Listen to the sirens, and their captivating song.
The ballad of revenge, is always sweet.
Let it pierce your thick heads, and spread down to your feet.

They deserve punishment, for feeding you lies...
Every last one of them...deserves to die.
Heed my wise words, and listen close.
There is a certain way that I want this to go.

Break your wooden tombs, smash them to dust...
Crawl out of your old jails, brewd over with must.
Relinquish all your thirsts, by eating their brains.
Come my children, and rise from the grave.