The Sword
Already marked of blood
it doesn't of continuing the fight
heads roll
it is bodies they vegetate
The Woman's
hand caresses me whit love
and my eyes return to skies
the love plays mine to be
more is just a warrior

I want to smile to the dawn
And to cry when sleeping
With the death my wait

The callous
hands and aching pulses
they don't tolarate more to
hold sword
and with the morbid and furious look
he takes charge of scaring
the enemy