Beneath the moon's cold, unforgiving gaze, The Insectoid Death Gang in the Shadow's play In eerie silence, their forms entwine, A dance of darkness, and sinister minds, Their exoskeletons, a marvelous design, As they crawl, their spiny tails maligned, In the garden of the night, where nightmares sprout, The Insectoid Death Gang travels a dark, chilling route. In profound darkness, their secrets kept, In the realm of fear, they've silently crept. A masterpiece of Death, with a Deadly ominous clang, The Insectoid Death Gang, in eternal darkness they hang.