t was a numinous night, wet and cold like the last week of autumn I felt a shiver dividing my bones from the top to the bottom And there were two of me then, one part flesh and the other a phantom
To the phantom I said, get behind me, ye vamp of Diablo It said, you speak out of turn, I am born of the shadow inside you And I have lived in your heart and with it I've become quite accustomed
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain I grow sick of your whispered betrayals Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame I grow sick of your lies and your games Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
It was a coward's decision when I offered you sanctuary I knew it, right then and there that our cartel would be my undoing But I, rationalized and believed every mangled half truth
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain I grow sick of your whispered betrayals Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame I grow sick of your lies and your games Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me
Choose your blade, we shall dance in the blood and the rain I grow sick of your whispered betrayals Go where the dead go, tu estas muerto Choose your blade, I won't be held as a prisoner of shame I grow sick of your lies and your games Get thee behind me, you shall not bind me