The 13th hole, midnight, he stumbled in desperation
He didn't know tonight, he would succumb to his fixation
Unconscious in the bunker, in vomit, suffocation
Passed out in the sand, he was snuffed from creation
In the morning he was found, stiff in the cold sand
A dead, rotting stench, an empty flask in his left hand
He decayed in the dirt, nobody gave a damn
Some say at midnight, you can hear the ghoul's chant