A Pale Horse

Midnight lightning in the sky 
Man in black he passes by 
It seems to me he is out of place 
With the look of death upon his face 

Can't see his eyes, no soul inside 
Although he walks, he is not alive 
Followed by a pale white horse 
The one called death, he holds his course 

The demons gather about his feet 
Thunder abates, the lightning streaks 
For the hand of death, one soul he seeks 
As he paces, paces down the street 

The fog it creeps, it settles in 
In front of a home, his search it ends 
In the still of night, a breath of wind 
He climbs on his steed and rides again