The murderer he lived in a croft
Lynnet dark as feathers of raven
Butter and alone with murder on his mind
A dozen kills, he enjoyed the memory< br/>Murder in memory
He watches, he spies for his lambs
The spirit of hatred in him has risen
By the edge of the roads, by the furrows of the paths
Filled of the slaughter, thirsty to wound
During storms only he strikes now
When everything is closed, he wants to eat
Then he captures many near and dear
Their flesh to the glory of the dark, consume!
His tools he polished well
With these he stabs to death
Wipe, wrap, tear, tear
He knows his art, he grins
Murder in memory
His bones will soon burn in a sea of u200bu200bfire< br/>His punishment, he knows, a hottest grave
Where he is tormented underground
For his death, for memories of murder
[English translation: ]
[Memories Of Murder]
The murderer, he lived in a croft
His mentality dark as feathers of a crow
Dour and alone with murder in his heart
A dozen slaughters, he enjoyed of the memory
Murder in mind
He guards, he spies on his lambs
The spirit of hatred grows in him
On the sides of roads, at the trenches of paths
Filled with massacre, this rty to hurt
He strikes only during a storm
When everything is done, he will eat
There he catches the close and dear ones of many
Their flesh for the glory of the dark, devoured!
He cleaned his tools well
With them hangs them up
Dry, wind, tear, grate
He knows his tricks, he grins
Murder in mind
His leg shortly burns in the sea of u200bu200bflames
His penalty, he knows, the hottest tomb
There he is cursed under the ground
For his deeds, for memories of murder

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS