Blood On My Knuckles

Face your wrath

I followed your shadow

To the devil's lair

Upon a pale horse,

Pierced, gaunt and red

Trampling the chests of demons

And not looking back

The weight of redemption on my shoulders

When you said;

"I would give you more gold than you could fit in your fists,

The entire world is at your fingertips."

Face your rage

And your hounds will turn on their own

With each nail

I will break your every bone

Black and blue color my skin;

That smirk leaves your face

Reciprocated tenfold

When I break your curse

Hoisted up and bound by a traitor

I left him in a field;

His insides feed the birds

"I would give you more gold than you could fit in your fists,

The entire world is at your fingertips."

Face your rage

'Wrath' is too weak a word

When I rise your fate is sealed

There will be nothing left but the blood on my knuckles

'Wrath' is too weak a word

Face your rage

And your hounds will turn on their own

With these nails

I will break your every bone