Trenchgrinder

The Hunt

High on sanguine wine I ride at the side of the horse of might
Across the landscape, both forest and hillside
Those that value their life beware the sight
Crossing your path on the deathbed of your kin

The cold of the underworld now coursing underneath your skin
Meeting eyes with the dead, you've welcomed this in
Whether in coldest night or a lover's arms
There is one reckoning upon which depend
The hunt unending lust for bloodletting

The black hand of negation is the bow
Crossing your path on the deathbed of your kin
The cold of the underworld now coursing underneath your skin
Meeting eyes with the dead, you've welcomed this in
Whether coldest night or in a lover’s arms

Upon one reckoning depend dragged from slumber
A legend of vengeance and doom awake in the marshland
Reaping elder on foot and infant in womb
In pride and folly you have stirred what should have been left
No mark of protection can slow what comes for you from the depths
With hunt unerring undying visceral lust

The black jaws have opened to swallow your soul down through darkness
Through the timeless invincible black when entropy smothers
There is no way back from out the tree-line, phantasmic hate
From the grasp of terror there is no escape
Smashed by the hammer, crushed under hoof
This death curse forever unearthed