Jadey

Death points at us; Death rave at us, and belt his sabbath song.
From the stories of my youth, my fear of Death was strong.
But then I found the strength within to deny the fiend forever.
For I feared my saintly soul floating down the Stygian river.

Lo, to face my fear I thought divine, that’s when the deamon sung.
An anthum for the noblest knight that ever died so young.
I stood and did not spur him forth; the hate rent in my breast.
Then swiftly with my cruelest sword I pierced him through the chest.

The deamon writhed in agony and cursed the biting pain.
He tried to pull the blade without, his efforts were in vain.
Tenfold the first pain known to death the ache had now become.
Then entered Sin with bated breath, my job was still undone.

Sin struck me and I wavered, for Death had made me weary.
Sin struck me down again, and then I knew he did not fear me.
Out of fear Sin might prevail I called upon the seraphs.
For I’ve never stood alone in my protection of the righteous.

Sin now stood nigh outnumbered, and I sensed he was afraid.
He then threw open the gates of hell, and summoned his deamon brigade.
The seraphs thrashed their fallen kin, and induced the weak to run.
The seraphim caged their roguish kin, then we headed for the sun.
Now all that is below shall stay below in eternal oblivion.