Master Of Scythes

I hide away from you, I creep through catacombs and emerge in naves

I hold my breath, alone in the shadows, as a full moon shines on graves

...I am invincible, invisible, I am indistinguishable...

And you can't see me, or hear me, I am sure, for I have closed my eyes

As I guard my thoughts, against the nightmares, of the master of scythes

...but you are omniscious, insidious, you are pestiferous...

And my memories are slipping and dripping, they are like clotting blood

As my appalling skin is crawling, the tears are forming beneath my hood

...I hear a mantra, a shibboleth, I sense your breath, for its odour's death...

So I hide in dreams, stumbling through petrified woods, but I'm making tracks

Into a sunny meadow, yonder a farmer's reaping wheat, with a scythe he hacks

...and he hacks... and he hacks... and he hacks...

And he turns to me and he casually beckons me, with his bloody razor blade

Then quietly leads me, to a woebegone chopping block, in a graveyard glade

...I am informidable, visible, I am risible...

I kneel down, there's congealed blood on dewy grass, so I close my eyes

I listen to distant birdsong, for he is silent, for he is the master of scythes

(Swish)