Staring into the laughing face of madness.
Reborn the first enemy with war hunger.
Burned out in hell, howling in spite.
Dispossess the warmth and cast into the night upon the moonlit ice.
Glaring into the numbing winds of scorn.
At this cold witching hour a hunter is born.
A wounded man with the devil’s mark.
I thrust myself into the dark.
Growing cold, as cold as ice.
Summoning this moonlit sacrifice.