Exit Wounds

  Put the blade upon my flesh.
Watch it flow in thus, a river if blood.
For it shall be a great night to die, upon
tonight's ploutonian shore.

 The deep red blood, upon the waves.
Candle light flickers, in the Windows, high upon the shore.
Silvery moon, glistening blood.

 Evil lurks. I stop to look.
Blood all around.  Separate more flesh
from bone.

 A cry for help, though I go unheard.
I lie there bleeding out.
Upon the morn am found.

 As my corpse brouht into town.
The death bell tolls, for its to late.
The Angel of death has taken me away.

 Not a single soul shows at my burial, for no one gives a fuck.
Except the priest. He reads my last will and testament.

 Slowly I descend into the ground.
A cheap wodden box, in a dark hole.
Not a single vistor, just lay to rot.