---

The mist is thick upon the ground
The moon is high, the air is cold.
The village sleeping unaware.
The slaver cleans his sword of gold.
The time is right for him to strike,
to soil his golden blade once more.
His evil eyes are watchful now,
and soon the scarlet blood will pour

Death has come to you tonight,
You've caught the slayer's eye.
The only thing you can do is fight
But still you're gonna die.

Upon the hill a silhouette,
A giant form in flowing cape.
He's getting ready for the kill.
He's got no need to steal or rape
The only thing he loves is death.
To sever limbs and hear the screams
of terror as his victims run.
He brings the sleep that's void of dreams.

The dust has settled on the ground.
The village sleeps but will not wake.
In triumph now the slayer laughs
And gazes on a scarlet lake.
The mist will fall again tonight,
And in the darkness quiet and still,
The slayer waits and cleans his sword,
until the time is right to kill

---

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