by Nick Gisburne
Demons took a daughter from your arms
Demons sense the sorrow as you cry
Demons hear you whisper pagan charms
Demons do not ask or wonder why
Always, I am called to your command
Always, something savage, something new
Always, where perversity is planned
Always, I must prove myself to you
Every murder disappoints your eyes
Every drop of blood has been defiled
Every day the hope within you dies
Every spiteful night you mourn the child
What you seek was never mine to give
What you love was destined not to live
