All of the God's children they all have to die Pauper to King sworn enemies to kin From men without sin to those with the beast within The grave is absolute, the grave is all O, Death where are your teeth That gnaw on the bones of fabled men? O, Death where are your claws That haul me from the grave? And do you have justice to trump the divine To steal the sanctity from their sermon Reduce to ash, writing of piety To conquer the lord's word I think you do O, Death where are your teeth That gnaw on the bones of fabled men? O, Death where are your claws That haul me from the grave? Do you bring fear to the hearts of heathens When your breath is upon their necks And the Gods, they will not answer And the sun is not in the sky O, Death where are your teeth That gnaw on the bones of fabled men? O, Death where are your claws That haul me from the grave? That haul me from the grave? The grave O, Death I am not ready for the grave So turn your steeds around and loosen your reins I am not - turn your steeds around - when there is no grave to keep me down Death, I am not ready, turn your steeds around So rise my brothers, rise from your grave Throw your shackles off and stand by my side So rise my brothers, rise from your graves No grave is deep enough to keep us in chains