A hooded skeleton, drapped in red and black, holds a scythe in its hand.
Standing in the shadows, waiting for the next assignment.
No one is exempt from the meeting, every person from every land.
Coming to both public places and solitary confinement.

The Reaper will not say a word, turning his back as you magnetically follow.
So many ways that the souls will go.
Some are happily ready while others want to stay,...