Dance of the Dead: I Evolved from a Skeleton

The gloomy cemetery, the dance music of the dead, who is calling? The heroic spirit who died in battle. The buried gods woke up from their slumber and turned into bloodthirsty Shuras; the fallen angels opened their charming eyes to welcome the coming of the blood moon; the return of the blood moon, the immortal undead, burned the cold souls; the horns of war, silent shouts, sounded the dance music of the undead; the perseverance of the lich, experiencing the sinking of the soul, waiting for thousands of years just to wait; The anger of the skeleton, enduring the decay of the body, roaring hoarsely just for battle; Death's sickle is stained with blood, and the ferocious soul is forever plunged into darkness: Even if there is wrath from the sky, it doesn't matter, I will wait for the green blood to spread across the sky; I will step on the corpses of gods and demons in the sky, looking for that one look back