When the Full Moon Beams
On a night in October when the full moon beams
Marsh noises resonate, all is not what it seems
The wind rustles the reeds with a haunting chilling sound
As the awakening dead arise from their dormant cold grounds
Black silhouette's are seen against a backdrop of cobalt blue
The living now need to run, to escape this deathly pursue
Carrying scythes and sickles, they lacerate all breathing souls
To re-enforce their army, the living are their goals
Screams and cries are heard, the unlucky in deadened red
Whilst the fortunate survive, for a long night lies ahead
A new dawn arrives, no longer scything sounds are heard
As we step into the daylight, to take in what's occurred
If you were caught in their open, your breathing no longer reigns
More of the living perish, whilst his dormant armies gain
In the village where I stay, we run and hide underground
How ironic is it, it's where the living can't be found