I cradle inside my cave,
Awaiting the rising of the day,
Where the shadows are amiss,
And the rays have gone abliss,
Where the rascals came and say,
Take care boy coloured in grey,
With the tongues hissing,
And the fangs grinning,
Where the match stick was struck,
My mind was set a mock,
To worlds that intertwine,
My spirit snuffed the pride of the swine,
Casting the soul with great terror,
With blood lust soaked in fervour
Then the sky in body,
Told me what folly,
How much they play with words,
Sarcastic as mirrors of ****,
The hidden crimson desires,
Take care they say,
Because we will get you someday,
On the ground with your remorse,
With your fear and your discourse,
Your death will be our triumph,
Your death will satisfy our hungering and defiance.
