Rossi

In a far-off, fallow field
An ancient magic pact is sealed
A man kneels among dust and dirt
His hand bleeds but it doesn't hurt
He speaks softly, clutching a charm
And vows to keep his sister from harm
Sealed in blood, with the correct words spoken
An ancient magic is awoken

And the man takes the charm as a token
Before getting onto his horse

But then the silence of the night is broken
By a gunshot from afar

In a far-off, fallow field
Where an ancient magic pact was sealed
A man lay among dust and dirt
His head bleeds but it doesn't hurt
He breathes softly, clutching a charm
Still he vows to keep his sister from harm

A hole is dug beneath the willow tree
And beneath a full moon, two gunmen flee


As the next full moon
Rose up in the skies
Inside a church
His sister cries
And next to her
A priest speaks lies

About the woman's brother and the Kingdom of Heaven

Ashamed of herself
She runs out the door
For the past, dreadful month
Had turned her into an addict; a whore
Running through an ally
She heard footsteps, and swore

Before she was beaten and raped by a group of seven.

And in a far-off, fallow field
An ancient shadow purrs
And beneath a forsaken willow tree
A month-dead man, he stirs!

A hand pushed up through the dirt
Followed by an arm, a shirt
With a scream he rose from his grave
For the sister whom he swore to save
He shook rancid dirt from his hair
He looked before him and saw the shadow there

And when the shadow moved
The man followed
When he felt the fear
He braced and swallowed

He fallowed the shadow
To an alleyway
He heard a priest
Cry and pray
But then he saw the awkward way
That his dying sister lay
And knew he had no time to stay
But still he heard the aged priest say;

“Grave walker!”

And the cobblestone answered;

“Grave stalker!”

And as flickered the alley's only light
The Grave walker bled into the night

In search of the first of seven.

Mouth open, eyes wide, insane
A single man runs through the rain
Down an ally, shadow draped
Running from the woman he raped

And the guards that would come soon after

Then the shadows began to purr
Everywhere they began to stir
He heard the steps of some late-night stalker
And the shadows whispered “Grave walker!”

And from behind the man rang laughter

A blade flashed
And with flesh clashed
To the ground a man fell
A soul descended into hell
And standing among shadows, beguiled
A month-dead man, he finally smiled

The shadow found three more of the men
The brother followed them, and then
Towards one he threw his blade with a spin
The man in the middle cried out aloud when
The blade caught him in the center of his sin
His heart bled out before defense could begin
And the Grave walker pulled his blade out again
Then began to speak with a wink and a grin

“Now, now, my friends, before you expire
I wish to tell you of a conversation I once had
On Proper Funeral Attire."

And he spoke:

"Leaning against the wall
My form clad in black
'T wasn't long before I felt
His eyes upon my back

"What a sight you are, sir
Dressed so dreary
With those dark circles
You look so weary
You look fit for a funeral
And that, friend, makes me leery"

Next he inquired
Whom had died
And to his words
I darkly replied;

"Listen well, friend
To these words I say
Each and every one of us
Die a little constantly, in some way
So there's a funeral for me, sir
Each and every single day

Morals are sacrificed
And laid down to rest
Human heart is denied
In favor of what's best
So I dress for death each day,
Call it a personal quest
To remind all of you
Of each day's death, lest
We all, as a whole, forget"

And in utter silence
He turned from me then
A frown sat upon his face
But upon mine, lay a grin.”

And with the brother's bold story told
He sent the remaining two
Down below to expire within a lake of liquid fire

The shadow found
The final group of three
Two gunmen and another
Beneath a forsaken willow tree
The man follows
And finds them all
The two gunmen
Bleed and fall

But the final man
Ignored Fear's choke
Cleared his throat
And finally spoke

“Why are you mad at us
For the things we've done
We were just some kids
Having a little fun.”

And turning to face the final man
Again spoke the month-dead man

“Perhaps I'll tell you a tale” the Dead man muses
“About a conversation on Anger and its Uses."

"I stood across from my enemy
With my blade in my hand
My enemy bent over double
And drew a line in the sand

"Standing over here
I still feel your rage
Now isn't the time
To be calm or sage
So, my friend
Turn the page
Let your anger
Out of its cage."

I conjured to my face
A faint ghost of a grin
But I said not a word
Much to my enemy's chagrin

"That blade in your hand
I suggest, my friend, you use it
For what a shame it would be
If you were to lose it."

He drew his blade, and struck
As though he didn't expect me to resist
But 'Twas he who fell to the ground
At the very slightest twist
Of my own pale wrist
And quoth I--

"You're wrong, my friend
I've no need for malice
For it is what has
Made you so callous

And it is because of this anger
That from you, quickly sped
That you lay upon the ground
Quite soon, my friend, to be dead."

"Your point has been proven
Now allow me to rest
Please, I beg you, friend
Pull your blade from my chest."

I then grinned again
Looking at his crimson skin
And as he died
I darkly replied
With my smiling lips spread thin

"Aye, I'll remove the blade
Your death, I wish not to postpone
But that blade at rest
Within your chest
Isn't mine, no, but your own."

The final man
Drew a blade
Across his face
A smile played

But the Grave walker
With his leg he tripped
The other man
Who stumbled and slipped
His own blade came to rest within his chest
And from it crimson dripped.

In an infirmary room
A sister lays
And in front of his tomb
A brother prays
And in the gloom
Evil pays
Its debt in blood

Kneeling before the willow tree
The brother asks to be set free
And his life leaves him in a flood

And in an infirmary room
The brother's sister takes a breath
But far away, in the gloom
The Grave walker greets death.