Beneath the glow of a moonless sky,
Where silence walks and shadows lie,
A figure moves through drifting smoke,
With eyes like embers, calm and cloaked.
The bells grow faint, the night stands still,
As cold winds sweep across the hill.
No footsteps sound, no branches break—
Only the rise of the Undertaker.
Wrapped in darkness, crowned by fear,
A legend whispered year to year.
Neither fully gone nor here,
A soul that makes the bravest veer.
Lightning dances across the stone,
As if the storm itself has known
That some are born of flesh and bone...
And some command the great unknown.
Through graveyard mist and midnight air,
He carries with him ancient prayer.
Not man alone, nor ghostly shade—
But something older, never swayed.
And when the darkness calls his name,
The shadows answer just the same.
For where the living hesitate...
The Undertaker walks through fate.
Written by Kat storm calaway