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Dreaming of my death wonderful and great as i see the battle feild of hate and grace
Graceful deaths with tireless swords as it cuts.They cut through me full of hate paring my flesh with blood alinged as i smile with insanity as the blowlays apon me,no tears,not enofgh room as i raise my sword to part the flesh and smell the blood of hateful grace.
The blood splattred field of hateful grace,no existance but mine as i look over the field. Now lonely with the black blade of which deaths was broght apon them all.The smell of blood driping,pouring,and flowing from all the hateful dead.
As i walk proudly on the edge of death knowing I am very close to the poing of my deathful dreams.
I fall on the ground and visioned blured.Blood lost with no avel of life near.
The parted wounds bleed fourth graceuly.The pain of my hateful body I crosss over from the feild of hateful grace to a cold blissful death of insanity to the now death of dreams.
My lifeless courps free of me.All given and taken back.
I embrace my hateful,graceful,bloddy death.
The feild of hateful grace has fulfuilled my dreams of death full of grace,hate and honnor with no bounds.