Black Guitar
Black death kills the souls of thousands,
The black storm that rolls over everything,
The sounds of a low bass screaming guitar,
The lightning pounds like the scream of a sharp struck cord,
Seven string show the seven layers of hell’s dark grasp,
As the screams of dying souls remind me of screaming fans,
Blood bleeds from the drums that bet the bass sound of hell,
The seven stringed black guitar,
The guitar which gathers the lightning from heaven,
Only to shock the hearts of millions,
Heavenly based bets the pound to the gates of hell,
Sounds that extinguished the flame’s of hell,
To turn hell as black as a the bass black guitar,
And every night hell’s fires are burnt out by the music of heavenly rock n’ roll,
And the souls of hell bleed to heaven like rain to hell.