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This is your last ride, begone of this curse Your fate is driving you in the hearse Blacker than all the hinges of hell The hearse it drives you to your…farewell So don't you ever laugh when the hearse passes by For you may be the next one who has to die Away you go to your place in the dirt When you ride in the back of the hearse Black on the outside and darker within The hearse is driving you in the end Rev up the engine, and straight through the gates And on to your final resting place From Letras Mania