Where Cold Wings Blow I (was) laid to Rest

I Can not reach my Rusty Weapons

the Blood and Sword that Guided my Path

for they Drowned in the Sands of Wisdom



I was, indeed, a King of the Flesh

My Blackened Edges; still they were Sharp

Honoured by the Carnal Herds

but asketh thou: Closed are the Gates?



My Mind cut my Winged Weapons

and Teeth that was my Pride

And from the Forest all would hear: