Bathory: The revenge of blood on ice

Fifteen years have passedEvery day the woods have criedthe words of vengeance and revenge.The Gods have watched him day and nightby the Northern stars bright light.Growing stronger. Coming nearer.Upon a steed as white as snowhe is riding through this land of no returnHis hair blowing in the windA sword in his hand.And his eyes they burn.Guide me, my Ravens. Find the waythrough the woods and snowLet your eyes be mine seeking for the valley of deathCome this far, I am willing to face the twin-headed beast's breathLet your wings be my heartin the air, black as night.I have steel at side. Powers of thunderThe Gods with me rideI trust in my ravens, watching from aboveBlack as night. Swift as lightning,and graceful as doves.I trust in my Stallion. Born by the wind,Taking me through the valleywhere this world ends, and the shadows beginI trust in my sword. Forged in fire and ice.It's sharp blade shall be baptised in bloodas I take the Beast's life.Cry, old crow, cry...Come out of the darkness you beast of Hell, face me.Out on this field of moonlit snow.I will not be deterred by your ugliness.Before my sword your two heads will roll.I will not let my sword rest until it's steelhas song for your ugly twin heads.I'll wipe the sweat off my face with your bloody scalpsand watch your four eyes telling me that you're dead.Gathering speed. Charging forward.collision is close now.The swords are drawn, held high.they flash in the pale blue moonlight.aiming at throats bare. The moment is so nearThe time seems to halt for a whileEven the stars in the sky hold their breathThis is the moment of glory or death...The moment to maim or to be put to rest...So close now I almost can hear the black bloodin the beast's thick veins pumping.I am swinging my sword. May the Gods be with me.I ride out through the vast portals of Hel.I swing my sword in the air.And the dead beast's two bloody scalps attached to a spear.Now is come the moment for me to set freethose, a long time ago, brought far northby the twin-headed beast.On that daybreak when the old crow did cry...That hard winter when I, still a child...By my Father was told of a hall way above the clouds,Gates open wide for the one who dies with sword in hand.