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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