The Surreal Touch Between Steel & Flesh

Bishop Of Hexen

Gowns of fiendish beauty-decaying, curved sharp nails

Prince of evil's hags-hovering on thin air

Circle the ancient-caulderon of summoning

Mumbling the infinite dark hex



"Goat-headed father, raven on left, wolf at your right

Asmodeus & Zabulon"

Into our lungs we will inhale this night



The battle-cry of men

The screams in the living woods

It echoes in the valley

Yet the darkness remains mute



The surreal touch between steel & flesh

Invoked, between them, a tragedy of odour & liquids

A harmony conceived by drops of tears & blood



The outcome of the spell

It weaves a cloak of darkness

Which will harvest the new leader

The sweet whispers of betrayal



The night is drenched in mist and in the smell of battlefield

The ice cracks open from the dazzling smell of agony

His tragedy-the fire will burn forever in his veins

The wounds of flesh & soul will leave the-melancholic stains

Crippled, yet alive-stay you to be the teacher of the arts

"We condemn you to eternal enmity"!



With heavy armour and two-handed swords

The summoned fury of spelled-blinded hordes

As if it is in slow motion-sky as earth

Trembling under the hooves



The outcome of the spell

It weaves a cloak of darkness

Which will harvest the new leader

The sweet whispers of betrayal