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Click hereSmoke born ashes flaring reason
Strewn shadows of dark grisly fate
Tis blood on wind and wind on blood
in that which is but feasting ground
Outlines linger drawing nearer
Smell the fate that spun be life
Clouds grow thicker in the sky
Moon glows freely, does not lie
Fleeing swiftly, terror breeding
Worms writhe through thy very soul
Bladegrass reaching gripping tripping
Stumbled thought on ground of olde
Crimson blanket, Warmth incarnate
Not but chilled be flesh of Sky.
Sparked by hatred fed by anger
Death plies swiftly on wings of strife
Tis Blood on Wind and Wind on Blood
In that which is but Feasting Ground