Watch me, I bleed now no more
|
My wounds one thousand and crisp
|
as life itself it drips away
|
a smile upon my lips
|
|
Cutting, slicing, carving
|
the blade slides deep in me
|
running warm blood
|
leaving my corps to be
|
|
Convulsions shatters my carved limbs
|
I now begin to feel the chill
|
the smile remains upon my lips
|
because likewise I die I kill
|
|
Crimson vision, inspiration
|
now it is time to ink my pen
|
and to summon my last strenght
|
to write my requiem
|
|
Covered in my own blood
|
words and music comes to me
|
now more dead than living
|
I compose in harmony
|
|
My blood forms notes on paper
|
splattered up and down the lines
|
creative even in death
|
I still smile as I die
|
|
-----------------
|
Requiem
|
| Bathory |
