In the light of a moon so red
a sword carves tales into the dead,
The shadow is a sacred place
where no one can see a face,
Death comes on silents wings
as the wind begins the song silence sings.
The somber sound of falling rain
trying to wash the blood away in vain,
but the blood will aways return with time
as torment for the repeating crime,
Oaths written in an ink sickly red
taken by those haunted by the dead.
The one who kill in the night
those who do not know the meaning of flight,
take lives carelessly of heed
but covet a blood lust greed,
the graves for these are shallow
those who've taken the oath of blood and shadow.
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