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Down in the holler where the moon barely glows,Skeeter was cookin' his meth by the rows.
An angel descended, all bright in the dark,
Said, "Boy, grab this gun; you're about to embark."
"The Keep holds a relic, holy and pure,
Hellspawn are comin', of that I'm sure.
Protect it with fire, with lead, and with might,
For demons are risin' to snuff out its light."
Skeeter, he chuckled, his grin full of sass,
"I’ll fight them varmints, and kick some ass.
Just lemme grab my hat and my propane tanks,
And I’ll show those devils who they can thank."
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