| I met Mr. Death this morning
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| He offered me a ride
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| I said: «I think I’m not quite ready yet»
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| To travel by your side
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| «Practice what you preach»
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| Then said the count of shadowlands
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| «It doesn’t hurt to take a peek»
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| He grinned and grabbed my hand
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| I sat in the leather seat
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| Of his Chevy van
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| The motor screamed like a pack of rats
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| In a frying pan
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| The headlights where shooting sparks
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| And the tires spinning flames
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| Well, allrighty then
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| He said and opened up his case
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| The grim reaper played guitar
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| His bony fingers cold and stiff
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| The sonic thunder froze my heart
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| As he cranked out the riff!
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| Oh yeah, the riff
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| Then his song was over
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| And he asked me not to lie
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| I felt a bit uneasy
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| But I dared to criticize
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| I told him: «Man, the riff is a killer
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| But the rest is a throw-away»
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| His face looked disappointed
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| But he said: «Ah, it’s ok»
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| I asked him, has he shown
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| The devil what he’s got
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| He’s written hits
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| But lately he has not
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| So the devil’s out of touch
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| And he cannot smell a hit
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| 'Cause he has lost his mind
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| With all that hip-hop shit
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| The grim reaper played guitar
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| His bony fingers cold and stiff
|
| The sonic thunder froze my heart
|
| As he cranked out the riff!
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| Oh yeah, the riff
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| I woke up and the van was upside down, my body bleeds
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| We must have crashed right off the road
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| And Death could barely speak
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| He said: «Listen you gotta take my place
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| I’m leaving office soon»
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| I said: «I'm sorry dude, I’m kinda busy
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| But tell you what: I’ll take the tune»
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| And it goes like this…
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| The grim reaper played guitar
|
| His bony fingers cold and stiff
|
| The sonic thunder froze my heart
|
| As he cranked out the riff
|
| The grim reaper played guitar
|
| His bony fingers cold and stiff
|
| The sonic thunder froze my heart
|
| As he cranked out the riff!
|
| He cranked out the riff
|
| He cranked out the riff
|
| He cranked out the riff
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| He cranked out the — |