In a land of shadows, where the moonlight weaves,
Lived Godfather Death, with secrets up his sleeves.
With a cloak of darkness, and a heart of gold,
He walked amongst the living, his story to unfold.
Oh, Godfather Death, with his silent tread,
In the realm of shadows, where dreams are led.
With a whisper so soft, he'd make his way,
Guiding souls to rest, night and day.
Through the winding paths, and the graveyard's hush,
Godfather Death would wander, without a rush.
With his scythe in hand, and a steady stride,
He'd welcome souls, to the other side.
Oh, Godfather Death, with his silent tread,
In the realm of shadows, where dreams are led.
With a whisper so soft, he'd make his way,
Guiding souls to rest, night and day.
In the end, truth prevailed,
As Death's judgment, never failed.
For Godfather Death, with his impartial hand,
Would guide each soul, to their final land.