Final place
To have eternal rest
In the catacombs, beneath the street
The rats run around, trying to find places to hide
You can hear the moans and groans loud, clear
Never go where they live
They will kill
Trespassers should beware
When stepping along the cobblestone
They will not think twice about reaching for your feet
And hauling you down into the depths
To feed upon your flesh
Final rest.
