The shadows of horsemen on leather steeds draw near; With the sounds of gallops in the heavy thick fog; These faceless reins have come to ride you into an unknown fear; Out in the distance, cries and screams fade away; There is no noise to hear, but the clashing of souls to see who wins the fight; Some will go to the tunnel of bright, the others will spend their lives in an endless dark of night; At this time six blows by Gabe, is the horn that sounds tells the good to raise; The ones with wings and halos that fly in formation, but the ones I chose are like strong horse riffs, and your last ride with the, "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."