Coffin Maker

Hammer of human bone
Nails of cold forged steel
Like a stone faced visage
I drive the nails to seal

A shiny, black casket
A vile coffin of sorts
To hold the corpse inside
Sheltered from the world

Sail a river so calm and black
On the river styx, there's no turning back
Charon at the rudder, eternally nail the coffin
Fathers' eyes stare coldly, feeling he lacks

Is there a name for this sort of goulery?
As i think to myself, the death roll summons
Dirt falls and the hole grows shallow
Lead the legions for i will follow