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Inked In Blood Lay Waste The Poets

There is nothing more I can give than my heart and soul. There is nothing more I can give than myself in full

lost. But I don't buy a word, not one word. You sell what's true of yourself (for) vain silver. Every last drop of your blood runs cold; (you) stale cadaver

Assassins come armed with the enmity that kills us. Your sword - drawn for me. Your cloak - pulled to conceal the truth from my eyes. The lies - blood

(Instrumental)

your betrayer. How beautiful you looked the last time I spoke with you. I know you loved me so. I left you there among the jackals. It was in my blood

Your prey... Your seeking me. Your blade... Sharpened to kill. To swim in the ocean of hate burns my skin at the touch; it makes me mindless with pain