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You granted me the chance
And now I have your head
I'm kneeling over your body
As it lies there cold and dead

I calculate my plans for attack
And they can only be measured by the piles
Of your bloated corpses
And everything you ever treasured

I strongly suggest that you say your goodbyes
Only because right after you
I had sure the rest of them died

Your woman and your children
Now they abide by me
They grant me every dream, every wish
And they will never be free

Your demise is determined by the blood on the blade

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