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When you arise to devour this world
With your heads and horns, know this:
You lost your life the day you were born.
I was born the day I died.
I die upon my sword rather than bow my knees.
I am but a mortal but unlike you
I am fireproof in this armour of blood and truth.
I know that you will rise from the dead
But I would kill you anyway just for the pleasure of the deed.
If God will get me close enough
I will let my blade drink your filthy blood.
I will be the Milos Obilic of the latter days.
He who kills with the sword must die upon the sword, I know.
But I am from the bloodline of the gentile foreskin and all
I rather bleed than fade.
A noble death is a treasure.
You buy it with your last drop of blood.
Samson sold he life for the price
Of threescore times a hundred of the foes.
If I could die like him in a good age,
I would pass with an eternal smile upon my face.
Beyond the days I will see you burn,
Nothing by a friend nephilim in fire and brimstone.
Know that day that I am fireproof in this armour that you refused.