Antestor

The grip no longer holds
When passion abandons
Teh bonds no longer clutch
And the rope screams your name
A path of daggers
But where to step
A hallway of illusions
Of what was
Duty heavy as a mountain
The battle draws near
Your shoulders carry many
Still death seems remarkebly void
You wonder fate in lack of faith
What you consider luck, may be Gods will
A wanderer of the light will never die
Before God give his aproval
A path of daggers...