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Like a cold witches’ brew.
An Oasis for all.
Now a hell for the few,
Who remain to tell all.
Warm winds turn cold
As all become prey.
The young and old.
For them we must pray.
Hell hath no fury
Like a demon scorned.
There is no jury
For a small town mourned.
Who’ll save Oasis
From ‘The Dead’ demons?
Who will now face us,
More dead or demons?
Pray for us.
We are alone
Come save us.
We must atone.
THE DEAD GAME
