Don't you speak ill of the dead
This one will rise and come for your head
Don't go and spit on my grave
You won't anticipate the hell you'll create
I will rise and tear through your weak minded hate
The undead storm approaches
Leave it up to fate
As the sun sets my teeth will sink in
I'll tear your body and your fear will set in
Don't you speak ill of the dead
This one will rise and come for your head
Don't go and spit on my grave
You won't anticipate the hell you'll create
I will rise and tear through your weak minded hate
The undead storm approaches
Leave it up to fate
As the sun sets my teeth will sink in
I'll tear your body and your fear will set in