Vauxhall

Yo, death's got my homies on lock,
Their souls snatched, a cruel clock.
Anger burns, a raging flame,
As I watch 'em fade, it's a damn shame.
The Grim Reaper's cold embrace,
A chilling kiss, a heartless chase.
My heart pounds with rage and pain,
As loved ones vanish, it's a relentless reign.
I spit venom, lyrics sharp as knives,
Aimed at death, to end its wretched lives.
But my words are futile, they cannot stop,
The cruel hand that takes, without a drop.
Anger consumes me, a fiery hell,
As I fight against the inevitable swell.
But death's grip is strong, it won't let go,
Leaving me shattered, filled with woe.
Yet I refuse to succumb to despair,
My anger fuels me, a beacon in the air.
For in the face of death's cruel might,
I'll rage against the night, with all my might.