cold wind
in the glow of lighting in the mountains shadow
the flow of cold winds flowing from the hollows
the night is my call to my ebon passion
a wolf's howl, an echo within
waiting to see if I hate my sin
the sky filled with thunder like the eagle's cry
cold harden iron against my thigh
the need to draw it grows evermore
with the chance to add to my own lore
my enemies had lost their opportunity
a chance to prosper and to gain mercy
their souls leave as they hear their own last breath
their doom and lack of motion show that life has gone deaf
as I walk from the lair where they hid
I tip my hat as an act of honor I bid
I look up to the moonlit sky
as if their souls are giving to the night
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