A person leading death
comforting every souls with a gravel voice
sings a song to lure them to their tombs
He would not choose nor he would not care
Everyone is just a victim in his eyes
Clad in ceremonial attires, carrying a sacred lance
He pierces the chest of one he finds worthy to feed blood from
Agony is his pleasure, fear is his armor
To deceive his peers he dons a mask
Hiding beneath a faux personality
He tries to laugh while his victims cry
Within his heart he is the one who cries
Why has he gone to the wrong way?
He has been comforting the scorched feelings with an icy-cold dismissal
Thus he fails to see where he has suffer
Once he finds out the truth he claws his own chest
And his tears are pooling beside the drained bodies
He wants to discard the mask that has served him well
But it is stuck on his face forever
Armed by grief instead of desire
He seeks for any foolish soul dare to step into his land
Where the winds howl everyday
And the Sun weeps forever
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