Blood. A song. A wish in the night. For a dream they fight. Because of love they choose to kill. Because of the dark they are lost. Now they march towards the end. The blood flows through the night, like veins in the rock they shine by moon light. The men are drawn in torwards the end by the song, faster now they march, single minded and wrong. The song so sweet, the voice they wish to meet. Dreams of revenge at night, because of lost ones they fight. The song drawing them in, is the weapon killing them. They march blind torward their doom, soon they will find their tomb. The voice so close, their dreams so sweet, their hearts heavy, chosen by sin, they draw their weapons. Trained to kill what they love, the siren they charge. The song is over, now a laugh. The men fall into the pit in the darkness. The siren silet, contempt. She will kill again, but now their blood is her reward.