Again i am summoned to weald my sword,
To anger you can ill afford.
Your cross and church cannot protect you,
From the hate in me that has started to brew.
I will meet you before the dawn breaks,
Dont try to hide behind your friends there all fake.
On the back of your neck you will feel my chill,
The fear swelling in your heart will give me a thrill.
Turn around, look into my black, dead eyes,
Before first light you will hear hells cries.
My laughing will be the last sound you hear,
With one swipe of my sword, your corrupt life will dissapear.
You should not enjoy the work i do,
But you cannot imagine the pleasure I will get when i reap you.
I will do it slowly, and you will feel regret,
Any compassion from me you can forget.
Your good at what you do, you take people for fools,
Be patient my friend while I shapen my tools.
 
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