It was a dark, cold winter week
A man in bed lay fast asleep
Though his covers wrap him to his neck
He is a man of greed, who won't spare a spec
Not a sense of diginity lay in his mind
So much greed and evil in him, which can last the test of time
Oh so he thought
Upon the pain, which he wrought
To the small children whom lay captive for ransom
Though girls think he's handsom
But he acts more like Manson
And his conscience lay free of guilt
But morally, his soul stay in filth
And the greed overwhelms his conscience
So it bare him no guilt and good deeds is but a nonsense
A knock pertudes his lair
Like a great dragon slayer
Slicing through the air like a sword
"Who is there?," cries the man, which forgiveness he doesn't bare, with a spirit as stiff as a board
Silence ensued and the man became confused
As the knock once, again, protrudes
"Answer me now!," the man says with a yell
"Come out now or I will put you through Hell!"
The knocking stopped, but what he did spot
Was a ghost in front of him, with a face you can't mock
"Do you know what you've done?," said the ghost with dispair
"You cause pain in all places that you have gone and I mean everywhere.
In houses, in apartments, up and down stairs,
In car lots, in rest stops, in poorly run fairs.
You don't seem to care and that is the problem,
but feeling our pain is the only way we can solve them.
So, withough choice, like you gave all your victims,
I will put you through Hell and you can't even pick one.
I will choice
And at the end, you will lose.
May you burn forever in the fire
Of my hellish cruise."
And like that, the man and the ghost disappeared out of sight
And the children, who lay in captive fright
Suddenly appeared in their bedrooms and everything was alright
But forever they will remember the ghost, the man and that cold, winter night