To My Assailers

With every wish it's hit or miss I saw him sit there carving her name across his arm Slit wrists and drunk ballads derived the ego of a thousand Deaths His sight brings fear that flinches at the chains' rattle You know not what I need to survive What you need to survive I've seen the dimensions of life and Death So cold, now they have become The wish of your death So now, in the curtain that calls the lost, The colony will know my name I will kill you all Missionaries make the claim at the stake of the holiday provoking only the worst from my alter Not sure how much of this I can stand No more of this I need The Death of you all is coming soon...