Sacrificed for a cursed conviction Guided by the smoke of fiction Drip of caustic bile, a silent room etched in scars, the reaper's doom Pray with a blade, in the breath of the fallen in the scream of a child, in the oath unspoken in the debt of the damned, the sinner’s hymn is golden the gods sleep soundly a killer’s path still chosen born from a whisper, molded in fire no name, no peace, no Funeral Pyre every shout a sermon of fate blood is the ink, vengeance won’t wait no flag to wave, no side to choose burdened by the things he’ll lose mirror cracked, the eyes look back shadows stitched, fade to black a life for a life, a soul for the cause no glory found in bloodied halls boots on ashes, scratches in rust truth is dead, but lies we trust pray with a blade, in the breath of the fallen in the scream of a child, in the oath unspoken in the debt of the damned, the sinner’s hymn is golden the gods sleep soundly a killer’s path still chosen curse-bound hand, scars like chains marching through the sinner's plains twilight bleeds from Heaven's Gates a crown of guilt, the reaper waits a voiceless cry, just thunder’s reply he walks alone, where angels die buried deep in the weight he bore a silent scream, forever and no more dust settles but the silence lies a shadow walks where justice dies no name, no grave, no final prayer just echoes whispering he was never there
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