He has a face that no one knows,
Underneath his hat and coat,
And a voice with naught to say,
For he has never seen the light of day.
He has held both rulers and slaves,
And taken both into the grave.
Some were willing,
Some are young.
Some for even the angels sung.
Under watch of the moon,
He has taken many to their tomb.
By their hands,
By their souls,
By the hearts the lovers sold.
By the raven,
By the cross,
For the never ending loss.
Born from life
And lived in death,
The man in black has never left.
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