• 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.