my fellow executioner

some how you managed to run away
left your scent in the place where you were chained
i staired at the empty space
In the hopes that you would come back again
I slept with wispers from your cage
It wasnt enough to hear you wimper
had to open the door to pet your face

I stand this body is holy grounds
This fire creates the light that burns my eyes
My fellow executioner
your fate illuminates my soul
I stand on ground soaked in templars blood

we've got a cause for you to die for
this message is eschatalogical
its time to feed our creation
martyrs of softly spoken skin
play the battle of personal freedom
to take time from the regime