The morning sun beam Finds a man in black With cruel face No marks of grace The tools of his trade Seem scary on the back Against the wall He uses them all
Seeing him makes grown men weep The eyes of him bear flesh decree And his axe puts men to sleep Eternal
Doomed in line Waiting for the call Staring at the traces of blood all around Their lined faces Hearing the sound of that Man's head dropping to the floor Falling axe Sprays blood on the wall Another head to the top of the mound Quiet whining Echoes from the walls The last words before the blood pours
Master of his craft Everybody's scared To use his skill It is the kill In the solitude lives Because no one dared To be with him His name is grim
Seeing him makes grown men weep The eyes of him bear flesh decree And his axe puts men to sleep Eternal
Doomed in line Waiting for the call Staring at the traces of blood all around Their lined faces Hearing the sound of that Man's head dropping to the floor Falling axe Sprays blood on the wall Another head to the top of the mound Quiet whining Echoes from the walls The last words before the blood poursTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
