I drive the hearse through the mist on the forest path.
Horses are exhausted, still I must go on.
For necromantic purposes I have killed.
Must take the corpse to my hideout before it rots.

Night of necromancy!

Spirits are following me, whispering in the air.
Tempting me to leave this life, "you belong to the dead"
And pain grips my soul, I know it is so true.
First I must talk to the dead, to know what awaits me...