Coffin Maker کے بول

Hammer of human bone Nails of cold forged steel Like a stone faced visage I drive the nails to seal A shiny, black casket A vile coffin of sorts To hold the corpse inside Sheltered from the world Sail a river so calm and black On the river styx, there's no turning back Charon at the rudder, eternally nail the coffin Fathers' eyes stare coldly, feeling he lacks Is there a name for this sort of goulery? As i think to myself, the death roll summons Dirt falls and the hole grows shallow Lead the legions for i will follow