Lying in a ditch, bleeding, begging for your life*
Your friends have all left you forsaken,
The eyes that look upon you are impassive as the stone,
That soon will mark your shallow grave.
As the spade descends into the earth,
You try to flee but your feet are tightly bound,
The gathered crowd looks on with no remorse but no one makes a sound.
Sing now ye wretched,
Sing now ye damned,
The black, abyss, is coming,
Come to take you by your blood stained hands
Plead now ye coward,
Breath while you can
Confess your guilt and die with honor,
Stranger in a vigilante land.
A simple pilgrim of utter inconsequence,
You chanced upon this lonely village as you wandered,
All you wanted was a meal and a place to lay your head,
Come the dawn, you were back out on the road.
Your captors came upon you in the night,
A shout, a curse, a fist, and then you knew no more,
When you awoke, you were condemned to death,
Though you never knew what for.
Sing now ye wretched,
Sing now ye damned,
The black, abyss, is coming,
Come to take you by your blood stained hands
Plead now ye coward,
Breath while you can
Confess your guilt and die with honor,
Stranger in a vigilante land.
Writer(s): Jason Walsmith
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