Stranded in a corner cold, dark and pale.
Deprived of life, feeling old and stale.
Moonlight shining thru with its waning crest,
lies the ominous Bass Line Of Death.
Cold to the ear.
Dark and deep vibrations.
Pale as the strangest fear.
Old and stale without saturation.
The Bass Line Of Death is felt for centuries.
Harvestor of souls drifting thru time.
Humbly leaving behind only memories.
Go to sleep as The Bass Line Of Death sings his rhyme.
Cold is the years.
Dark and deep without limitations.
Pale as light held dear.
Old and stale with eternal damnation.
The Bass Line Of Death isn't felt at all.
The taker of life is embraced with rejoicement.
Never the life of this one will fall.
Fast asleep as life becomes yer deaths replacement.
Sing...Death...