Facing down into

The blood-soaked soil

The prong pierces my neck

As it's only a swords length away...

From the years to come



My words are dripping red

I drink my pride

As I shall close my eyes

No more

The prong twists in the gap of flesh

Facing down into 

The blood-soaked soil



I swear to all of which I possess 

And I swear to all of which I am

To abhor the fear 

I deny...



And the years to come

Are only a swords length away

I deny...