The Sword Already marked of blood it doesn't of continuing the fight heads roll it is bodies they vegetate The Woman's hand caresses me whit love and my eyes return to skies the love plays mine to be more is just a warrior I want to smile to the dawn And to cry when sleeping With the death my wait The callous hands and aching pulses they don't tolarate more to hold sword and with the morbid and furious look he takes charge of scaring the enemy