[J Nordavind '96]

A cold sharpened blade
plunge through the skin
Death triumphant
Death the king

Blood on my hands
Blood on my lips
I took the frail bliss of your eyes
and its darker than you think

I violate
I come at night
My great endurance of body, mind and heart

Let me take you through
A gust of wind
Torrent of rain
Blood and semen
Murder is art
The cold blade
The cold blade