Bathory

When I'm gone and my time had come to shut these eyes of mine
No stones must be erected I will leave but ash behind
Tell no tales about me when you gather around your fire
I'll be one with mother earth not dining in no hall up high
I have no master I swear no oath
The gods may pass me by
I steer the horse I choose to mount
When the storm draws near and the blood rain from the sky
One life hardly a notch made in the bark of tree of time
One death hardly a drop of blood on the reapers shiny scythe
I take not a thing with me where I will go on the day I die