Serpents کے بول

Savage Low lonely hearts Some were rewarded with love Most were just crushed Searchers Lose ways in the dusk Horns and the claw emerge Surface with a rush Black turns all eyes In southern skies Her blood is warm She is bound to die Serpents Breath different air Silent and motionless Down in evil deep Saviors Coveted by right They climbed with cloven hoof But killed with knives