Darkness falls across the land,
the midnite hour is close at hand.
Creatures crawl in search of blood
to terrorize yawls neighbourhood;
and whosoever shall be found,
without the soul for getting down,
must stand and face the hounds of hell
and rot inside a corpses shell.
The foulest stench is in the air,
the funk of forty thousand years.
And grizzy ghouls from every tomb
are closing in to seal your doom;
and though you fight to stay alive,
your body starts to shiver,
for no mere mortal can resist
the evil of the thriller!
Thriller –Rod Temperton–