The End [Banjo Tom Origins #7]

Описание: There is a man with no name and no soul,
No family and no home,
Forced to roam the deserts all alone,
He doesn't know where he's travellin',
Doesn't know where to go,
Just follows that cold wind whisperin' low,
With a curse in his blood, darkness and woe,
Every footprint he leaves turns to ghosts in the sand,
And death walks behind him, holdin’ out its hand.

Now, in Egypt, there's a town that when translated to American,
Is called Ghost-Dune Hollow,
I travelled there on account of havin' lost my soul and become inhabited by a demon,
The demon told me to do terrible things,
I had hurt my Sister, hurt sasquatch, and knew I had to solve this problem before the demon took over my body completely...

Something clawing out of my chest,
This horrible feeling,
That I want to cause terror,
Kindness fleeting,
There's an angel on my shoulder, he's been struck dead,
And the little devil in my heart pounds, chaos and bloodshed, chaos and bloodshed,
I hold my pounding head,
Blood on my hands,
My shadow is long,
I can't, last this song,
I won't last this song...

I practice Heka, listen to me and you might live,
There's a temple full of ancient egyptian magic that can give,
You a fighting chance against this demon, who inhabits the hollow where your soul should be,
Just listen to me...and you will be free...

There is a man with no name and no soul,
No family and no home,
Forced to roam the deserts all alone,
He doesn't know where he's travellin',
Doesn't know where to go,
Just follows that cold wind whisperin' low,
With a curse in his blood, darkness and woe,
Every footprint he leaves turns to ghosts in the sand,
And death walks behind him, holdin’ out its hand.

I entered that pyramid and found within it traps,
Most devilish,
But the demon inside did not let me die,
No, the arrows hit me and fell to the floor,
As I grew in strength and terror,
I found a tomb where some long forgotten Pharaoh named Khepra had long been buried,
I used a book to translate the warning, any who shall open this sarcophagus will face death,
I ripped it open...

Scarabs flow like water,
Over abandoned riches and forgotten daughters,
A mummified corpse walks out,
Shadows cling to his body like my doubts,
His glowing jade eyes look towards me,
And he points and I see...

Visions of a time before,
Visions of a time long past,
Where slaves built this pyramid to last,
Behind every stone, was another corpse of a slave,
And as they began to rise out of their graves,
They burst through the walls,
I grabbed one by the throat, slamming him to the floor,
But another came flying at me from behind a trap door,
I shook him off crying out as he bit my shoulder,
As Khepra spoke in a language that were older,
Than the temple around,
Wait, what was that sound?

Chaos dances as Nyarlathotep begins to rise,
An unholy abomination before my very eyes,
Constantly moving, shifting, full of lies,
I can't even begin to describe its vile guise,
It hovered above Khepra and empowered him,
Making Khepra move to its will and whims,
I swung banjo at a undead slave, then began to play a tune,
Praying to God it would all end soon!

Evil clings to us like darkened folds,
This will be the greatest story ever told,
How a country boy beat an eldritch beast,
We'll have to have a large feast,
To celebrate when I whoop your ass,
Like fried green onions and bluegrass,
I'll take you on, I ain't full of fear!
A sigil formed in front of me,
As I formed a magical seal, inside, you see,
It bound the demon to Khepra and to whatever the fuck it was that inhabited him,
Their battle was so intense it began to shake the foundations of the pyramid,

Well I stole,
That werewolves soul,
That I had stored in banjo,
No idea why I hadn't thought of that,
And moved on from Egypt, tilting my hat,
To them Egyptian folk who wandered by,
I love this world so much, love watchin' the birds fly by...

There is a man with no name and no soul,
No family and no home,
Forced to roam the deserts all alone,
He doesn't know where he's travellin',
Doesn't know where to go,
Just follows that cold wind whisperin' low,
With a curse in his blood, darkness and woe,
Every footprint he leaves turns to ghosts in the sand,
And death walks behind him, holdin’ out its hand.