Four bodies, axe wounds to the neck and head
Writhing around in throes of death
One small child survives
But death shrouds her mind
His eyes burnt cold, no remorse
Calmly the poison dripped from his lips
Stripping all honour from his bones
Covering his soul in putrid shame
Hacking the ones I love to death
Is not something I'll regret
I will live this lie till I die
No one will ever see the horror lurking inside
The faceless laughing figure, the convenient myth
The blood still drips from the axe's tip