In the splatter wagon he goes, tossed from the street.

Horse drawn cart, clatters cobblestone feet,

butchers and bandits left him for dead, crimson clothing, jewelry shed.

Rain will wash the spot where he bled.

Heart not beating but soul alive, skin sealing, death deprived.

In back alley darkness, leaps he from board bed,

becoming the horseman, making driver the dead,

splatter wagon dripping, it's boards being fed.

Beware the splatter wagon, bouncing hell's way,

making corpses of the living, each lovely day.

No longer visible, and no noise it makes,

being driven by Satan, you're soul it takes.