Blood is flowing from my veins
Settling in darkness
At the bottom of this glass
I hold this chalice to your face
And shudder as you drink deep
This drink
A drink of death
A small taste of hell
And well
The goblet is my power
My very own holy grail
Because
Death is a venerable vintage
A spirit of blood
A wine of gore
A variable incentive
As the hoards begin their war
Another song
That sounds the same
But some how different
And not in vain