The Undertaker (ost Захолустная проповедь / The Backwater Gospel)
The shadow of the undertaker creeps across your floor Go lock up all your children and paint blood upon your door These hills are filled with whispers of a man all dressed in black With the toll of death's knell he comes from hell to drag some whoreson back That old Bible speaks of angels doing service up to the Lord The undertaker knows no master, he drinks from many cuphoard Just as banshee's wails are warnings that someone that same day will die The undertaker he states the same, I'll be goddamned if he tells a lie
The undertaker raises no hand but all fear him just the same His presence foretells both blood and death yet he shoulders not the blame Like the shadow of a vulture circling blackly overhead The undertaker is drawn to death like a knife is drawn to red