Spoken words of lesser thought that gave no means to end,
Haunting nightmares—soul was severed, what was left in Life?
Life of one, and life to all she knew and cared forgotten,
What remains in Life, a desolate and bitter land?

Only that remained was but a bitter memory,
Anguish in her torment, are we men? Or are we demons?
Nothing but a mortal—prone to mishaps, failures, pressures,
Yet you dare defile, diminish, and destroy her life,

To the wicked ones who dared to—know that vengeance comes,
It approaches like a storm—her torment will be yours,
Knowing nothing of her torment, being beaten then,
Wrathful judgment coming—nearing, at your very door.

She was nothing but a maiden—would you dare to try?
Dare to try to torment her, you soulless spawn of Satan?
Dare to overwhelm and plunge her heart and soul to darkness?
To the point of death and still to torment her in death?

You will know of this—you have deserved the wrath and judgment,
Of the many of the righteous brethren, they will carry,
They will deal the wrathful blow to every wicked heart,
Righteous hearts have cried for vengeance, this shall be fulfilled.

As I speak of vengeance, know that words cannot describe,
Hard and bitter feelings that has blossomed in the righteous,
Let the Maiden be the symbol, martyr, and the gift,
That her death should be our weapon to the wicked heart.