The wick burning bright,
A runic light hidden out of sight.
Azure flame barely touching wax
Melting pure metal off the shimmering Ax.
With this Ax I have punished the innocents,
nostrils fill with salty vermilion scents.
Washing the blood from my hand.
Along the river all the headless souls stand.
The river of Styx flowing black.
Torment turned, whips lashing off my back.
My dark hued hood flaps in the wind.
Empty eyes, Iím finally being punished for my sins.
Itís my hatred that made the bed.
Reverse execution when me myself must bow my head.
My soul and the Ax suddenly grow colder.
As my head shifts and slides off my shoulders.