All of the God's children they all have to die

Pauper to King sworn enemies to kin

From men without sin to those with the beast within

The grave is absolute, the grave is all

O, Death where are your teeth

That gnaw on the bones of fabled men

O, Death where are your claws

That haul me from the grave

Do you have justice to trump the divine

To steal the sanctity from their sermon

Reduce to ash, writing of piety

And conquer the lord's word

I think you do

Do you bring fear to the hearts of heathens

When your breath is upon their necks

And the Gods will not answer

And the sun is not in the sky

O, Death I am not ready for the grave

So turn your steeds around and loosen your reins

I am not one for the tomb

So rise my brothers, rise from your graves

Throw your shackles off and stand by my side

So rise my brothers, rise from your graves

No grave is deep enough to keep us in chains