The last survivor of a forgotten tribe
Blessed and pale guardian over the dead
Rotting corpses - allegiant companions
Recently deceased spirits
Chilling cries of new souls
Souls, ripping from bodies - leaving cold, pale shells
Lost souls not finding their way to beyond
The guide for them was the soul collector
To the dead - He's a savior
To the living - Twisted Pariah
Creeping in the shadows by day
In the heart of the undead moor
A ghastly landscape he creates
With his superior force
An asset to his faith
The tormentor, the soul collector
Everything writhes and contorts
Living creatures transform into vile
Taken away is life's comforts
Whispers emanate from the air
Providence or fate
A Twisted Pariah
Corpses left their graves
Guided by his voice
Bodies once laid to rest
On his command, the soul collector
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