• In Time,
    All things become clear
    Like lambs to the slaughter,
    the sand draws near.
    Forward they charge
    Cannon blasts at large;
    Grapeshot of muskets
    and rocks by the buckets
    are what separate the lines.
    Low and behold,
    no story untold
    they all meet me in time;
    For I am the reaper,
    the dark night creeper.
    First to the show,
    Last one to go.
    my grasp comes ever near,
    Waiting for you,
    murderer, Hero,
    until death we part,
    I'm waiting for you,
    General.