His urge for unbound life Went awry. An empty hole inside. But this warrior-breed Will never kneel. They left the cursed dales to grief Just to fry in the cruel sun. They shackled him for fights And reveled in the sight. Dishes like leather, ‘till he found a Stone to smash those dastards. Skulls blasted. Hunting now; he went for their beards, Was squeezing out the eyes When the cook wailed: Onn Hann'ar! He bathes In gore and intestines. Other men are like lice, get crushed alive. Fear; the wolf haunts the dunes And traders shed Tears of blood. When he raids death comes surely. Look into his eyes and freeze! His breath means death. When he turns on you, you cannot outrun him. From behind, he impales you, laughing. Onn Hann'ar! He's jabbing, driving Holes into your twisted body. A million, all too small For you to die quickly. He is so menacing. If he prods, death comes slowly. In Eelion, gem of the desert, Adverse fate led him into Naelle's fold. The altar's calling for you. Preach! Passionate flesh coated in baneful steel. Blinding sorcery. From the forge, Rise with a half mad cry! Stole the velvet warmth, tender no more. Now cold, yet stiff and deadly. No Farewell to the art of making love, Only the delirious gluttony of bloodlust.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
