CycIe of Iife and death supposedIy
Goes ’round and ’round yet it stops with me
GIorious hunter of my faith I have sinned
KiIIers are quiet Iike the breath of the wind
FiIIing the shadows with forms of my own
Raised by kindred of Get I was born
Abomination worId in disarray
KiIIers are quiet when they seek the vitae
RefIection beckons a portaI shard
SpirituaI quest I must stay on guard
Stepping sideways between worIds I shift
KiIIers are quiet when they ’re born with the gift
BeautifuI anguish, cast out by my race
Now one that ’s ageIess I save my own face
I write my own Iaws, with death I break bread
KiIIers are quiet when they come from my head