[Intro] (A haunting string melody plays as wind howls through bare autumn trees. A heavy, gritty UK accent cuts through the dark.) зм "Yeah. Look. You think the shadows in the woods are just trees, blud? Nah. When the fog rolls over Sleepy Hollow and you hear them hooves hammering the frost, it’s already too late. Let’s get it." (A heavy drill drum pattern drops hard alongside a sharp sword-sharpening sound effect) [Verse 1: The Hessian Past & The Execution] Back in seventeen-seventy-something, I was bred for the war, A brutal Hessian mercenary, leaving bodies on the floor. File my teeth down to points, strike fear in the ranks, Riding black stallions, taking lives with no thanks. Untamed on the battlefield, carving out my name, Until the day betrayal caught me slipping in the game. Ambushed in the frozen woods, outnumbered in the snow, They dragged me from the saddle, nowhere left for me to go. My own broadsword, heavy steel in the dark, Swung clean through the neck, leaving a permanent mark. They thought decapitation put an end to my breath, I lost my head as a man, but I was reborn in death. [Chorus] (The beat strips back slightly, heavy bassline pulsing beneath a dramatic, sweeping string section) Hear the hooves on the frost, creeping through the mist, Headless rider on the glide, check off the list! Swinging that broadsword, cutting through the night, Stealing every head because you're running from the fight. Sleepy Hollow shadows, got nowhere to run, When the Pumpkin patch turns red and the haunting's begun! [Verse 2: Victim Selection & The Tree of the Dead] Now how do I select 'em? It’s a curse, it’s precise, I hunt the ones who trespass where the blood turns to ice. If you wander through the Western Woods after midnight chime, You're stepping on my turf, and you're running out of time. Drawn by the scent of fear, tracking down the breath, Every swing of the blade brings a swift, headless death. No negotiation, no mercy for the weak, It's heads I'm collecting, it's trophies that I seek. Dragged back down to the roots of the Tree of the Dead, Where the soil is stained crimson and I'm missing my head. You can lock all the windows, bar the doors of the town, When the Horseman is riding, heads are coming down! [Outro] (The heavy 808 bass fades out, leaving only the sound of a terrifying horse gallop fading off into the distance, ending with a heavy thud and a chilling silence.) "No head... no mercy, mate."
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