Weaving The Incantation کے بول

A mind dejected, blood boiling with anger the storm of the warpath, now sings in my heart your pleadings, useless, I now shall disregard I'll leave you to weep and to fear for me I'm ready for my end my hair I comb down with resin into braids I'm ready to ascend my will burning high summon strength from the night I equip myself, to warfare I prepare I put on my black cloak, enchanted adders skins your prayers shall not reach into my heart your despair shall not stop me now This precious hairbrush, thrown at the wall it came to me from my father I give you this as a token of myself for you to have and mourn over And when my blood flows from it's bristles when my sap is dripping from it's shaft then you will know of my anguish my destruction will be revealed