Deep in the heart of nowhere, the Tax Man roams,
Filing Files, and grinning as he watches our homes,
His doom, His wrath, his Holy Forms are able,
to make you shudder, and scream at the kitchen table,
For the Tax Man Commeth, from beneath your very nose,
The wrath he brings nobody knows.

But the wrath of the tax man ends not there,
For the boss will learn should he fracture the Tax Mans hair,
The buildings shall burn, the Holy Forms conflagrate,
the screaming, your nerves shall grate,
For the Tax Man Commeth, his wrath wild and untamed,
For the Grim Reaper, Death has been renamed.