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Temporally cursed, clockface slave

"Late to my funeral" is what they would say

Now they gather round an empty grave

One last time they'll have to wait

But back at the morgue, a horrid tableau

The mortician lies prone, forceps forced through his throat

A staggering corpse bears the blood on his hands

Revenge served cold, the ultimate final command

A familiar face, the killer wears

But behind dead eyes I'm no longer there

Pure homicidal stimuli

Animate this corpse that once was I

They thought it was bad to wait

But that was before I showed up late to the grave

Apologies for prorogating your gruesome fate

Late to the grave