Slab from Magic by The Werks

Looking out his farmhouse window,
He can see the field below.
There's an object in the distance marching
Across the cold white snow.

Now it's vanished from his vision,
And there's a pounding at the door,
He rushed across the floor, grabbed his trusty axe, and headed down the stairs.
But it wasn't there anymore.

Now he found himself running,
From what he did not know.
When he glanced back to catch a glimpse of what was after him,
But there were no prints in the snow.

A cool wind blew, it threw back his hair,
He felt his soul lifted into the air.
It came back down just out of his reach.
The demon from the snow he now clearly sees.
Gnashed his teeth and let out a ghastly cry,
He couldn't escape and he didn't know why.
The demon with his soul firmly in his grasp, sank down forever into the slab.

• Electronic
• Funk
• Jam
• Rock
• Columbus