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Bishop Of Hexen
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The Surreal Touch Between Steel & Flesh
Gowns of fiendish beauty-decaying, curved sharp nails
Prince of evil's hags-hovering on thin air
Circle the ancient-caulderon of summoning
Mumbling the infinite dark hex
'Goat-headed father, raven on left, wolf at your right
Asmodeus & Zabulon'
Into our lungs we will inhale this night
The battle-cry of men
The screams in the living woods
It echoes in the valley
Yet the darkness remains mute
The surreal touch between steel & flesh
Invoked, between them, a tragedy of odour & liquids
A harmony conceived by drops of tears & blood
The outcome of the spell
It weaves a cloak of darkness
Which will harvest the new leader
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The sweet whispers of betrayal
The night is drenched in mist and in the smell of battlefield
The ice cracks open from the dazzling smell of agony
His tragedy-the fire will burn forever in his veins
The wounds of flesh & soul will leave the-melancholic stains
Crippled, yet alive-stay you to be the teacher of the arts
'We condemn you to eternal enmity'!
With heavy armour and two-handed swords
The summoned fury of spelled-blinded hordes
As if it is in slow motion-sky as earth
Trembling under the hooves
The outcome of the spell
It weaves a cloak of darkness
Which will harvest the new leader
The sweet whispers of betrayal
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