Post by warraven on Nov 5, 2007 21:59:45 GMT -5
Tarjanz's song, without the troll accent. If I wanted to I'm sure I could put a better rhythm to it as aside from the rhyming and the occasional alliteration it's pretty weak on structure. But I'm not that dedicated.
I may wind up writing more for her if I continue to get bored at random intervals.
We are shadows in the dark
We come unseen
One rib, two ribs
And a knife between.
Forget your fears
They mean naught
What use is your worry?
When your death has been bought.
Assassins, murderers
Killers and thieves
We'll look you in the eye
With a knife up our sleeves.
So slash open the throat
Let the crimson blood rise
Stained dirt drinking in
That copper-sweet tide.
So give us your gold
Don't care where it's from
Despite the reaper's rule
Death -can- be sold.
See, there's no reason to fear
Our knives will hit their mark
Just close your eyes
And resign to the ever-deep dark.
I may wind up writing more for her if I continue to get bored at random intervals.
We are shadows in the dark
We come unseen
One rib, two ribs
And a knife between.
Forget your fears
They mean naught
What use is your worry?
When your death has been bought.
Assassins, murderers
Killers and thieves
We'll look you in the eye
With a knife up our sleeves.
So slash open the throat
Let the crimson blood rise
Stained dirt drinking in
That copper-sweet tide.
So give us your gold
Don't care where it's from
Despite the reaper's rule
Death -can- be sold.
See, there's no reason to fear
Our knives will hit their mark
Just close your eyes
And resign to the ever-deep dark.