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doyle - swaying demons (a tribute to whom i pray) كلمات الأغنية

the stranger was shaggy, with a voice rather scraggly, clothes full of holes made from the bullets of his enemies
he was broke and offered no politeness or jokes, all he had to be sold to the respected decrepit townie whos face was long wrinkled and bold
was a simple looking blade that he claims claims demons souls

*the stranger placed his knife on the table

“this has turned foes to bros, healed the woes of hoes
cast righteous swine sent to dine on the divine all the way home
tis this the blade which slayed the witch, no harm shall come to the arm thats called to arms to wield its wit

townie – “how can that be with such a short reach the blade can barely surp-ss the toes on my feet”
the whole bar chuckles*

the hilt was wittled with the wood of an ancient tree thats branches welled with wellness for 4000 years peacefully
until one day it was struck with grief etched with ramblings from a drunken inbred king
in its last 400 years it has seen 400 tragedies
quarrels that unbind families, lovers lost in lust castles cast into casquettes to turn to dust as well as its brethren burned to burn boundless beasts
you may only handle the handle if you can handle a handle of the devils blood the fear of the fearlesses crud and the spiteful spirits of the d-mnful
the hilt was forged before lords, it is the eye of all storms in the most simplest form
and for one man it was sworn
a man whose paths past was scorn from war and future filled with folk lore

“do you hear this “hero” here hes nutting the place up for fuck sakes ill give you a penny its about worth its weight in fire wood” the townie cackled*

the stranger spoke once more:
its blade, is descended from an ancient race of rage
it can grasp a demons dimmed light show him the error to his ways with one twist in their thick ribs he can make the heathen fillet
and when the sun shines on the lines intertwined on its spine it can inspire a lovers gaze, and a dreamers grace, and a leaders ranks
in the dead of night it casts light and will make all pay the toll of his soul for all the brave knights hes sent to last rites

the old man grew quite quiet praying his secret stay silent from this tattered traveler who now seemed the size of a giant

i see what you are, i see behind your scars you were once the nature of beauty but my how youve come so far, i am truly impressed with your past, the messes you have left ,the depths of death you have lep
t but im afraid i am not afraid its time for you to go back to the nest of the blessed to be bled out and be fed to those you have laid to rest for even at your best you are no test for me to fret

the old man screeched and lept toward the tattered shlepp
but it was too late, his fate was sealed nothing remained but dust on the floor of the tavern and a seemingly dead eel

and on the stranger went to again atone and repent clothes still full of holes hair still unkempt
tbc

- doyle

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