Berserker
=========

I'm a deviant heathen leaving villagers grieving.
Dilligently pillaging, killing and reaving.
Something wicked this way comes.
I herald the battle with the sound of pounding drums.
Deep tones. Hit with thigh bones ripped from foes.
Limbless, skinless. Endless woes.
Death throes of those who rose to me throne.
Now exquisite corpses frozen in repose.
I'm insane. Mansbane.
Scarlet rain. Too late you found..
..there's more to the story. I'm bound in gore and glory.
Visceral imagery, belligerent allegories.
Demon of death.
Diabolical deeds, ***** streamin', hard and wet.
Wargasm. I shudder and fall.
Into the chasm of chaos and now I'm ******' for all.
All hail the ever prevalent assailant
I wassail and tell tall tales of the violence.
Raucous ribaldry amid the misery.
Me axe cracks backs, hack it out. Now you're spineless.

Chorus 1
------
Ber-ser-ker ! A terror on the battlefield.
Come see.
Ber-ser-ker ! A maniac in the killing fields.
You don't wanna battle me.
Ber-ser-ker ! A terror on the battlefield.
That's me.
I'm a Ber-ser-ker ! A maniac in the killing fields.
Pray you don't meet me.

I've been swathed in every form of armour made,
from rags and ragtag leather-to Mail and Plate,
My Bearskin Cloak always warms my back,
til my blades unsheathe-then even Kin Stay back...
Skilled in every Weapon from Claimh Mor to Cleaver
Been called a Chief, a Thief-and a Reaver,
Fought to the top of a slippery *****,
Steamin' with Blood and intestinal rope,
Madness infectious wraps me like Mist,
me giggle tickles and Trickles through skulls til britches get ******
don't Run Son-you'll only Die Tired,
Sun-Day comes I light a Church on fire,
Step back enjoy the Pyre-eyes Dreamin,
Souls pour from Holy Spires Screamin',
Drink 'em in Flesh burning is my Oxygen,
Bathed in Blasphemy-Scars Criss Cross my Skin,
til even my Tattoo's Writhe in silent pain,
Morose til the Battle gets Close-then erase the Stain
Of a Former life-Former Son and Wife,
Hack their Names in your Skin with me Butcher Knife

Chorus 2

Ber-Ser-Ker burnin' Monks out of Round Towers,
til the Stones Bleed Gold
Ber-Ser-ker-throw the Cash to the paymaster,
I'm paid Souls,
Ber-Ser-Ker Breast fed by the Morrigan,
Lap the Blood from your Chest,
I'm a Ber-Ser-ker-the Terror of your Campfire
Born(e) on a Shield on the Field of Death!

I feel the poison flowing in my veins...

   The upcoming darkness shall never prevail...

       My hunt will begin soon, once I recall the trail...

              With shut eyes I picture my enemies fail...


*
©sim

A dying horse,
Was being dragged over a marked cross,
On the ground its body lay,
Mocked and tortured up all the way,
Only few blinks with tears filled eyes,
Waiting for its beats to stop while the time flies,
There it lay next to its grave,
Hoping to be pushed in by the masters slave,
A few more minutes before the soul surrenders,
Once loved and praised by many spenders,
Now the weak await for the death to fall,
To free its soul from its body, once admired by all,
The eyes stopped blinking,
The tears stopped rolling,
The heart stopped beating,
The poor horse stopped breathing,
Pushed in its grave by the masters slave,
No one to praise or raise hands to wave,
Gone are the people who came along,
Finally resting its body in the grave alone...

©sim

A chill ache of fright
I sit here writing tonight
Nothing feels alright
Night is no longer bright

The air seems damp
People crying in their camps
Far away lit are the weak wreckered lamps
Streets overcrowded with empty traffic jams

The night has turned silent
The BANGS! and firings has become violent
The powerful has shown their talent
The leaders abandon with no relent

No rivers flowed in pure
No medicines available to cure
Every epidemic spawn to lure
Death has come upon for sure

Will there be a grave sight?
No one alive to take either flight
Everyone knows the war wasn't right
But weary matters handed in plight

Bloodshed stamped everywhere
Families dismantled from far and near
I myself feel am not getting anywhere
From this graveyard there is no escape to dare

The approach of twilight
The gunning and bombing in daylight
Unpredictable killings and fights
This has dropped the earth from many heights

I see my upcoming death
I feel my stuckup breath
My tears have dried
From so long cries

The world is literally torn
When the evil got born
In its web the humans sown
There is no next dawn

The ground shaking mad
Drowning in the dead
The ink has turn red
I feel the dead wreaths on my bed

Another day left to be
Another trench left to see
Another life left to flee
Another room unlocked with key

All I hear is...
BOOM!!!BOOM!!BOOM!!!
Outside my wretched room
The earth, the humans, the livings, here comes our DOOM!!!
BOOM!!!
Alas!!!


©sim

i feel like i am in a battle of untold secrets
the secrets shoot me in the heart
each enemy i stumble upon runs right through me
they don't see me for me, they see me as a place to hide
i am an open wound
slowly rotting to the core
from being shot with too many bullets to the heart
too many secrets to hide

when will this war be over

It is in the midst of strife
when the burden weighs most heavy,
your innards writhe and twisted;
the discomfort tugging at you so intensely
you cannot help but feel the tightness in your throat.

It is in the thick of this black mist
when your hands pick and pull
upon the wisping thread inside your head,
unraveling the rabble of cowardice voices
which spill like venom on your thoughts.

It is the unsettling notion
you are alone in a vast and empty ocean
sinking, suffocating and claustrophobic,
your mind is brimming, overflowing,
afraid it might just crack right open

It is knowing
these thoughts which come pouring
from that fractious bore inside your skull
seethe with undisclosed emotions
and their exposure to the air could crush you whole.

Will you allow this shameful wave
to crash atop you with all its galling weight
and drag you under grain by grain?

Or-

Will you battle back the coming storm,
standing above the surging tide
a rampart refusing to forfeit a single inch
of your distinguished shore?

I say battle.
Battle with the erosive waters rising inside you.
Battle knowing fully at first you are destined to lose.
The hero must be humbled
before others see him as the hero too.
So battle **** it, battle you glorious fool!