love splits me open like a fairy nut:
from my chest flow forth
the honey and the gold

and my heart melts like a sword
like something that recalls
the taste of blood.

They are the destroyers,
They have come through air,
Burning our streets and
spreading out despair,

With their stolen voices,
They have joined the laugh,
Burning through the corpses,
The righteous attack.

We are fallen warriors,
bodies rot in dirt,
We are eyes of ravens,
The blood of the earth,

With a rusty weapon,
We will spread the word,
The swords of our forefathers
are not of this world.

The cloud will spread,
The sky is dead,
Remains are bared,
The sky dies scared.

No mercy!
No freedom!
No mercy!

There is no loving without wickedness.
There is no loving without rivalry.
Chase me. Fight me.
The sting of the sword announces the winner; be sure to kiss me after.



.

Gun in one hand, bible in the other.
Is not the word a sword?
Why need for a gun too?
Or is it a justification to ****?
The same as a rocket launcher on one shoulder,
and the koran in the other hand.
Or a flag in one hand, and a sword in the other.
The image says justified intimidation.
Fear me, for I have the Authority.
But really, the Authority is only as valid
as there are fools who submit.
And the only true authority is the gun, or sword,
as you certainly know it.
And the flag, or bible, or the koran,
are but for your own conscience.
or cover for your lack thereof.

The bible and the gun:
an oxymoron;
a display of faithlessness,
the defilement of holiness,
a blasphemous act;
affirming the proud fool you are,
that says in its heart, there is no God!

Sword of Ishmael, robed in Assyria's mantle,
Consecrated of God, Prince of princes,
A Destroyer: the executioner of judgements.
A thorn driven deep into the heart of Jerusalem,
Tempting violent men, who pride in their strength,
as Excalibur and the Gordian Knot challenged
Arthur and Alexander.

An angel, or so I was told
Diamond, can never be sold
Live with me to the end of time
Fly me beyond this world
History is full of stories
Yours is the one that hasn't been told
Feed me the essence of your soul
Feel me when you make me gold
Kiss me like never before
Kiss my neck and kiss my sword
In your lips I'll live thousands of years
With your love, I'll never get old

The birthplace of weapons.
The backbone of wars.
No sound but the throes of steel.
In fires that burn, unending.

Shaped by the beating of the blacksmith.
Each stroke, manifesting his will.
To forge the weapon of prophecy;
The sword to lead us to victory.
Bathed in the blood of its enemies.

The strong, ordained, as the sword evil feared.
Today evil's lawless, nations cowered.
Balaam lives, the strong loves self shamelessly.
***** shall rise and condemn, righteously.